


God Is Real and She's American

by mabus101



Series: Six-Metal Superheroes [3]
Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Exalted
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, diverges after Buffy S5, inter-canon ships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2018-09-24 14:46:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 33
Words: 143,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9765941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mabus101/pseuds/mabus101
Summary: Lilah Morgan is in the Oval Office, while in Creation the Scoobies take aim at the Silver Prince--but has anyone detected the true culprit?





	1. Mansion, Robe, and Crown

"How long've we been cooling our heels in here?" Charles Gunn wanted to know.

"I think no more than a few hours," Rupert Giles suggested, "but certainly I would prefer to be finished and move on. Unfortunately we are at the mercy of the Perfect's bureaucracy."

"If we attempted to break out, even if we succeeded, we would still be in the heart of Paragon," Wesley said. "Much as I want to be away from here, I fear we must wait our turn."

"Well, what if we don't want to wait?" Cordelia grumbled. "We've got our own lives to get back to! I for one just want to go home to Los Angeles where I never have to worry about anything except the occasional...vision!"

"The occasional vision?" Giles began. "Or are you having a--"

"It's got a waxy face," Cordelia said, "kind of like a skull. And--ow!--a big spike or stinger or something!" She peeled back her sleeve to reveal the stigmata the imaginary sting had created on her arm.

"Oh dear," Wesley said. "That sounds very much like a Glarghk Guhl Kashmas'nik! I was hoping there were none here."

"A gargling upperclassman?" Cordelia wondered. "Sounds harmless to me."

"No," Gunn warged her. "It's called a Glarghk Guhl Kashmas'nik. They have a poison that makes people hallucinate. Nasty stuff, you don't wanna run into one."

"Thank you," Wesley said. "I think your pronunciation was better than mine."

"What's this about a Glarghk Guhl Kashmas'nik?" asked the slender woman walking up to them. She was pale and curvaceous and generally beautiful and Gunn had to remind himself to keep his jaw shut. Wesley seemed to have forgotten that himself, and even Giles had to shake himself a bit. "Surely not here in Paragon."

"I couldn't see much but the demon," Cordy explained, "but there was an expensive-looking chair, and silk curtains."

"Someone important then," the woman said. "That worries me. I can't imagine anyone loyal to the Perfect summoning Oramus' spawn here."

"Then you _are_ loyal to him, I'd guess," Cordelia said. "It's what I saw in my vision, and I've never known them to be wrong."

The stranger shrugged. "I don't know about your visions, though perhaps I should. But I'm here because you say you know the Despot of Gem. Is that so?"

"She was my student," Giles said, "and I'm very worried about her. Taking over a city is very unlike the Buffy I watched grow up."

"People change," the girl said, "especially when they Exalt. Case in point, me. I'm Paragon's Minister of the Arts, Scarlet Whisper, and I'd like it very much if you told me all you knew about Buffy Summers."

**Chapter 58--Mansion, Robe, and Crown**

"Queen Winifred," Gavrane Tomazri said urgently, so she fell back a few steps. "Would you please walk with me?"

"Of course, Tomazri," she said to him. "We have some time."

"The people are shamed," he said bluntly. Queen Winifred did not appreciate flowery language, not when a matter was urgent. "We dwell in one of the few--perhaps the last--First Age cities on the face of Creation. It was one thing, during the revolution and for a short time after, to be a woman of the people. We understood your solidarity with us. But now your rule is secure, and too much solidarity may endanger it."

"I'm not sure I understand," the Queen said. Well, her culture was truly alien.

"You may of course wear--or not wear--clothing in any style you choose, even a jumpsuit if you need to for work. We would hardly choose to keep you from your repairs. But we have noticed that even the finest clothing you wear can be sullied or torn, and that you generally go undecorated. We can do so much better for you, my queen. Luthe can produce First Age fabrics for you and for your friends in great quantity, and the Luthea now have tailors of supernal skill."

Winifred frowned. "How do my clothes put the city in danger, Tomazri?"

"People will begin to whisper that the city is weak, my queen, if you live so far below your station. We can produce finery aplenty for you, and fine food in quantity, now that our hydroponics issues are resolved. No one is going hungry to feed you. Even if you do not need to eat, you should be seen to enjoy yourself, as should your friends. It is well that you have begun taking consorts, too, and though we do not wish to rush you, it would be well to see that you are choosing more. Luthe, even in its damaged state, is well able to support you and your friends lavishly as Exalted should be. It should not be whispered otherwise."

"I see," the queen said slowly. "Well...it wouldn't do to trigger unrest. Make me an appointment for the afternoon and we'll all get a proper makeover. Right?"

"Very good, my queen." He would feel so much better with this done. "One more thing. Our stores of hearthstones are low. Many were destroyed over the centuries by damage to their manses. But we have adequately equipped the troops. It is unseemly for you or your friends to do without. In particular we have noticed the Despot of Gem has no stone for her daikalbar. We have one or two remaining. Would you look at them?"

"Of course," the queen said uneasily. "I'll take a gander at them."

"It would be especially wise to dress well to meet the Feathered One, the monarch of Wavecrest," Tomazri suggested, "though the maps we were brought suggest it may be a little while yet."

The queen nodded, and Tomazri felt a little more at ease. Proper order would soon be restored to Luthe, and to the world.

*****

"So that's the sitch, then," Fred finished. "It goes against my instincts, but it seems like everyone agrees: if the Exalted look poor, the city looks weak. If the city really were weak it'd be different, but all my reforms go pfft if there's a coup. Or if the city gets conquered, which sounds unlikely but I did it so it can be done again if the circum...I'm babbling, sorry."

"Happens to the best of us," Willow acknowledged. "What're they going to find that looks good on me?" she asked unhappily.

"They'll figure something out," Fred said as the jewelers examined her hands. "They're not used to dealing with Abyssals."

A pair of amused servants were busy measuring Xander. A tailor began comparing swathes of cloth to Willow's poor dessicated skin. A shoemaker all but manhandled Tara, Exalted or no, into a chair to examine her feet.

"I just wish I knew where Dawn was," Shadow said. Buffy made a face, but she went on, "She should've brought them out of the Wyld by now, unless something went really badly wrong."

"It's the Wyld," Anya said while a hairdresser worked on her. "Something probably did go wrong, or at least different from what they expected." She frowned at the attendants, Dragon-Blooded and mortal alike. "You know I'm headed back to Yu-Shan today. I've got a ton of paperwork to file."

"All the more reason for you to look your best," the hairdresser said, sounding scandalized. "Heaven itself and you want to go in old, unfashionable clothes?"

"Could be worse," Xander said. "Leviathan likes to talk about the old days when it would've been a scandal to wear anything not made for us, or better yet, by us. Exalts used to go out dripping in jewelry to quest for a daiklaive that matched their ensemble. "

"I wouldn't mind being a fashionista again," Buffy and Shadow said in unison. They didn't do that as often anymore, but it served as proof that both Buffies were still Buffy.

"I just hope they get back all right," Shadow finished alone. Everyone except Buffy nodded, and her expression seemed more irritable than outright disapproving.

"Anyway," Fred said at last, "I've got an old manse on this map that also appears to be a tomb. It's isolated, and even if someone has its hearthstone there should be other stuff preserved there.".

"Also traps," Xander said.

"Traps," Fred acknowledged, "but--"

A neomah burst into the room, only to be immediately seized by Shadow Swimmer guards. "Buffy!" she shouted.

"Marzi?" Buffy said, jumping up and carefully pushing her pedicurist away. "I thought you were killed in the invasion."

"Release her," Xander said at the same time Fred said, "Let her go."

"I was," Marzi said as the disgruntled guards stalked off without her. "Ipithymia brought me back because I'm your servant and so I could send you a message."

"Who killed you?" Buffy grumbled.

"A shapeshifter," Marzi said, "but it might have been a Lunar or a raksha, I dunno which. Anyway Ipithymia sent me to warn you that there's an Eclipse caste coming from Paragon on a diplomatic mission. Your human self won't be able to handle her. Ipithymia says follow her and she'll get you back to Gem in time."

Buffy put her head in her hands. "Great timing. Well, I might come back with a consort at least. Ipithymia's a living red-light district."

Marzi raised a bare brow at her. "Am I not your consort already?" she asked with a wink. "Also, if you hurry you will have time to stop at your mansion in Malfeas. It's complete and has grown a hearthstone."

Buffy stumbled and nearly fell back into her seat. "I didn't design a manse. Did I?"

"Coulda fooled me," Marzi said. "Did it look good? A building that looks good is usually pretty good geomancy to start with. Now it still needs a demesne, but why would we put a Green Sun Princess's palace somewhere else? At that point it's a matter of degrees, not of yes or no. I've seen better manses, but yours is passable."

"I didn't even know I was making one," Buffy floundered.

"You've done a lot you didn't know you were doing," Willow pointed out.

"Yeah, but--"

"Okay, no," Marzi said. "I thought I'd see how far I could lead you on. There's a manse because we had a proper architect take your plans as inspiration. They weren't bad, but no one designs a manse by accident." She began to giggle.

"You little--" Buffy broke off and began to snicker too. Soon the room was filled with gales of laughter. "You just better have something good to show me!"

*****

Dawn was still stuck in the mud. Had she been there for ten minutes? Hours? Weeks? She was starting to have trouble remembering when she'd been free.

"All right," TARA stated. "This has gone far enough. I understand the legends now." A pair of bulky components like vacuum tubes half-slid, half-accreted from her shoulders. "This might hurt a little, Dawn, but it's better than staying stuck there."

The tubes flared with intense yellow light, and Dawn gasped as a sensation like an electric shock jolted her. But the mud was suddenly just mud, and she'd only been there a couple of minutes. With an effort---her feet felt like lead, but that was whatever TARA had done--she pulled her feet out of the mud and clambered aboard the ship, tracking goop after her.

"The Wyld may be your home, Dawn," Stephen said, "but somebody needs to clean house."

"Y'know," Dawn said grumpily, "I'm not even going to disagree."

*****

"I have four hearthstones we got from Ebon Siaka's leftovers," Shadow said once Buffy and Marzi had gone. "I'm not actually sure what they are, but Will, if you're taking that bustier then you can keep it in the socket to attune. If we split those between us two, who's that leave without marbles?"

"I'm supposed to be getting a Celestial manse," Anya said. "It's probably nothing good, but I'll have it after I get back from Yu-Shan. Xander has a couple already too. That just leaves Tara and Fred."

"You should definitely have one," Tara said. "The more powerful one if there's more than that."

"You might need it more," Fred argued. "You're newer at this."

"I have my spells," Tara pointed out. "I'll...wait. I'm not being honest, and I'm not doing what Luna told me. I have to stop being afraid of power."

"I never thought of you as being afraid of power," Shadow said. "You're a witch, right?"

Tara shrugged. "There are degrees. My mother gave me some hard limits to follow, and I set others for myself after seeing what the witches in Sunnydale were like. Some of them I still think were right, like not messing with the boundary between life and death. Some I had to give up in less than a month, like never using magic as a weapon."

"Oh sweetie," Willow said, and ruffled her hair.

"Anyway, just...the degree of power the Exaltations gave you guys, and the responsibility that came with it...it freaked me out. After a while I started trying to _not be a hero_ so I wouldn't get one, and that...well, it could've had some bad consequences." Tara shuddered a bit at that.

"Like getting an _Infernal_ Exaltation?" Shadow said, hoping to lighten the mood a little.

It might have worked. "Buffy seems to do all right with one when she's not running from it herself," Tara said more thoughtfully. "That part _might_ have gone all right. But if I have to be honest, I think I'd have said no even if I died from it. It's just...."

"You don't have to justify that, baby," Willow said. "We understand about your family."

"Anyway," Fred asked, "what do you say about a side trip for the two of us? We'll have time to talk about things."

Tara couldn't conceal a side glance at Willow. "I think that's a good idea."

*****

His head hurt, the throbbing ache that came of being too long waterless in the sun.

"Mister," the cracked old voice said again, "I say it looks like you're comin' round at last. You've been delirious for days now."

Delirious? But from what? There had been a demon.... "My good man, I don't know you, but I promise to reward you handsomely for your help. Do you know who I am?"

The old man scratched at a head increasingly shorn of its wool. "Can't rightly say that I do. You look like one of them scavenger types as operates out in the desert here lookin' for old time stuff. Fool business, but every once In a while I s'pose someone gets lucky."

How...curious. The old man had guessed correctly, after a fashion. "I am the Perfect of Paragon," he said weakly. "I rule that city with justice and peace. If you can help me return there--"

"Son, I have to tell you: you look a mite short of perfect to me, and I never heard tell of a city called Paragon." The old man held out a cup of water. "I can't prove you wrong, I s'pose, but my way of thinkin' is that the heat's gotten to your head, an' you ain't thinkin' straight."

"I...I encountered a demon. A...a Garg...a Gargekhl--" His parched throat would not shape the words. He clutched at the cup and swallowed its contents down.

"Out there, I'm not gonna call you a liar. All sorts of nasty things runnin' about. But all I c'n actually see is a poor sunsick fella whose brain's a little addled. Don't worry," the old man said kindly. "I put no blame on you. I'll look out for ya either way."

It was the truth, he wanted to scream. He was the Perfect of Paragon, Creation's most wonderful city. But how was he to make this old desert-dweller believe?

*****

"It's the strangest thing I've ever heard," Scarlet Whisper said. "I wouldn't believe you, except that there _is_ precedent."

"Really?" Giles said, startled.

"There's a legend I heard once--the Time of Cascading Years, where Creation split into multiple worlds, one for every Exalt down to the lowliest Dragon-Blooded." The Eclipse turned a corner in the huge palace corridor. "I don't think Buffy can be a late arrival--every Exalt who survived remembered what they did to save Creation, and appeared at essentially the same time. Supposedly those who didn't make it were all accounted for. Still, perhaps your world somehow split off from ours--" She broke off. "Guards, why are all of you here at this hour?"

One of the dozen standing before the great double doors stepped forward. "M'lady, the Perfect is in seclusion and is not to be disturbed until he emerges."

Scarlet Whisper shot Cordelia a worried frown. "I thank you for your loyalty. However, I must invoke Standing Order Number Three: the Perfect may be in danger from forces beyond Creation. Your sentry duties are superceded. Please come inside with me."

The guard mulled that over for two or three seconds--clearly wary of breaking the law either way--then turned, unlocked the door with a large key, and peered inside. "Quiet," he muttered, and hurried inside.

The Perfect's apartments were far more tasteful than Giles had expected. Clearly the man was modest, perhaps comparing himself to the Exalted--either in deference or as a show of ostentatious humility. The wall hangings were colorful but abstract or plain, there were only a few simple sculptures, and the seating and bed were comfortably soft but lightly decorated.

They made the rounds of the small sequence of rooms and had returned to the door when Wesley collided with something in the corner and cried out.

"Are you all right?" Scarlet Whisper asked him politely.

"I...." Wesley rubbed his hands. "Something...waxy. Um...more to the point, I...saw images. My father's old house...I was a boy being scolded for...for a foolish fantasy that demons and magic were real."

Giles stared at the corner where Wesley had been. It certainly appeared empty. He strode forward with his right hand extended--

_\--struggling against his bonds._

_"I'm afraid we've got a_ folies a deux _situation," the doctor was saying. "We let him speak with the Summers girl--she seemed to respond to him--but now he's incorporated her delusional system into his own--"_

\--and abruptly backed away. There was definitely a sheen of wax on his right hand. "Something is certainly here," he said. "We can't perceive it directly, but it _is_ present."

"Leave us," Scarlet Whisper said to the guards. "Speak of this to no one, and return to guard the door." After they had filed out, she spoke again. "I'm not publicly known to be a Solar. Some think I'm Dragon-Blooded. I told you because I don't believe I'll be able to hide it when you take me to Buffy. I have no idea what this is, but it's clearly connected to the Perfect's disappearance. Do you have any idea what might have happened to him?"

Giles shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't know."

*****

"You know how to sail a ship?" Dawn scowled at Angel.

"Well enough. I've been around a good long while, in case you forgot." He struggled very briefly with the tiller before wrestling it into submission.

"He's not telling you it's because there was this time he ate the whole crew and had to get us back to shore," Spike chortled.

"Just raise the sails, Spike," Angel muttered. Spike growled under his breath, but he did as he was directed.

"The question now is, 'How do we find Luthe?'" Dawn wondered.

"I've never navigated anything but the Pole of Oil," TARA said, scanning the horizon.

"I'll get us there," Stephen said. "I've never sailed before, but I can tell you where to go. I can track the city wherever it goes."

"Across the ocean?" Dawn asked skeptically.

"Exalted," Stephen said defensively. "Get a clue."

"Be nice," TARA warned. "The raksha have their own rather disturbing powers. You could wake up tomorrow and discover she's your sister _and_ your girlfriend."

Dawn began to snicker. "As if!" Connor gave her one look and scurried off into the rigging. "He's not bad looking," she said. "But I think I still like my relationships one at a time."

*****

The skiff set ground on the shore of a (fortunately) charted desert isle. The scrap of beach looked warm and pleasant enough, but quickly rose into a grey volcanic peak that smoldered and smoked continually. Carved into a solid rock were a pair of stone doors with no obvious handles.

"We're lucky it hasn't been buried in lava," Tara said absently.

Fred scoffed. "Lava is a minor inconvenience, remember? Buffy can _swim_ in lava now. Well, as long as it's still liquid."

"She couldn't do that when we met, could she?" Tara eyed the volcano nervously.

"Well...no, probably not." Fred took hold of Tara's hand. "Come on before it becomes an issue? We've got a Solar tomb to explore. Just remember this isn't a video game. The obstacles aren't designed to have clever ways around them. No one was ever supposed to go back in."

"So we have to work out how to pass them ourselves." Tara took a step forward and stopped. "What's that inscription say? I...see an aura of some kind."

"On the door?" Fred stepped up to examine the writing. "It's Old Realm. Um. There are Sidereals involved. That's good and bad. Good because they didn't trust the site to the Dragon-Blooded. It must have something important inside."

"Bad because the Sidereals are more powerful?" Tara took a deep breath.

"Also it might be something that really _should_ stay locked up," Fred admitted. "I think you're seeing a fate tied to the tomb. The inscription says 'Whoever enters here shall die without mercy.' Which sounds awfully straightforward but there's usually some way of bypassing destiny to avoid these things."

"But you said--"

"It's not intentional. It's just the nature of semantics. No man of woman born and all that." Fred poked at the door, which didn't open. "Any guesses?"

"Find another way into the tomb?" Tara suggested. "It says 'here'."

"Might work," Fred agreed. "Not sure how to find another entrance. We might have to make one."

Tara touched the carvings. "You said you could animate a corpse?"

"You want me to do that?" Fred said with a little jump.

"Not thrilled with the idea, but it's not really necromancy, you said. You could send it in to look around, and the curse couldn't kill it because it's not alive."

Fred mulled that over. "We'll have to find one. Any other ideas?"

Tara spread her hands wide and called out, "Mellon!" The doors remained closed. "Figured it couldn't hurt."

Fred giggled. "Worth a try. Want to sit down and talk it over?"

Tara nodded. "Let's be sure we get this right. We don't get any save points."

"Nope," Fred agreed. "We're working this one without the net."


	2. No Handlebars

"Oh Jesus, help me!" The three-eyed things didn't respond to the name of Jesus except to turn toward her.

They didn't respond to the cross or the Bible either, held in Paul Maclay's hands. "I rebuke you in Jesus' name," her uncle shouted.

"More must rise," was the demons' only response as they seized him by the arms. Cousin Donnie's shovel to the head was more effective than prayer had been, but in moments the cluster of monsters had him restrained just as surely. The one he'd hit rose slowly, wobbling on its feet, but it rose.

"Get the girl," another of the demons said, pointing at her. "More must rise." Beth Maclay shrieked and dashed away to lock herself in the nearest room.

That proved to be a mistake. The only possible exit was out a third-story window. Worse...worse, it was her aunt's old room. She could feel the demonic forces hanging heavily about it like a thick fog. If anything she was in more danger here.

With the strength of adrenaline and faith in God she shoved the bed against the door. That might hold them for a little while.

Something had fallen from beneath the mattress. With shaking hands she picked it up. The book was her aunt's old journal. A "book of shadows", Tara had called it once, somehow not seeing the evil that name revealed. It fell open to a page marked "for warding malicious creatures".

No. She might have the bad luck to be born from the Maclays' tainted seed, and it might even make her able to wield those foul powers, but it was better to let the demons eat her than to give herself over to Satan. She let the book fall.

"Gyaahh!" That was her uncle screaming as the monsters implanted their dark spawn into the back of his head. She could...she might still be able to save him, to save cousin Donnie. The book mocked her, drawing her gaze back to it. No. Uncle Paul would tell her to be strong and trust in Jesus, not in the devil's arts. She picked up the journal and flung it out the window, pages scattering to the winds.

"Beth Maclay." She turned from the window. A handsome man--she thought it was a man; he was slender and beardless--regarded her, his feet moving soundlessly over the floor in an intricate pattern. "Your faith is great, though it seems to avail you nought." For the briefest of moments, she saw no form at all--only a column of silver flame, and her eyes went wide. "I come to reward your faith." The man--the angel!--held out his arms to Beth Maclay, and she took them gratefully.

"Save me," she begged. "Save my family."

"Their faith was not sufficient," it said. Before she could respond, the flames engulfed her. And then she knew only pain.

**Chapter 59--No Handlebars**

Drusilla giggled.

"And she calls that righteousness," Lilah said disgustedly. "Reminds me why I don't bother with the concept."

"There is a seed of virtue in it," Five Days' Darkness said calmly, "just as there is in your disgust with her, and with hypocrisy in general. It might grow or it might not. The Infernal Exaltations will not take root in those who rise to the occasion, only in those who fall. Not that I would tell her that just yet."

"Why didn't you three give me access to the Loom to begin with?" Lilah traced a hand through the glimmering display. "Do you have any idea how much time I've wasted flailing about?"

"Simple," D'Hoffryn said. "We didn't trust you. We still don't, not fully. But Drusilla can repair any damage you might do--to the Tapestry, not to the Loom itself, which is still beyond you--and we believe we can entice her to."

Lilah responded to that with a simple glance at the giggling Sidereal and an arched eyebrow.

"Exaltations go to those who will use them," Mara said patiently. "And Sidereal ones to those who are destined to have them. There is a reason it belongs to Drusilla, and we must trust that destiny will lead her to it."

Lilah spread her hands. "You'd better be right."

*****

"Why now?" Amy groaned. "I'm compiling it into the petition, but why not while the election was still going on?"

"Because Wolfram & Hart have their tentacles all over society like a bad Werewolf: the Apocalypse villain?" Harmony pointed out from the next computer. "Alabama: Lilah promises to end marijuana legalization. Oregon: she promises to push it forward."

"Petition," Amy sighed. "We're sending it to the Supreme Court and to the Electoral College, right?"

Faith bent over her shoulder. "Not that I'm complainin', but why is voting so complicated?"

"Because a bunch of old white men didn't trust us to make our own decisions," Harmony muttered.

"Voter turnout sparse in Cleveland due to unexplained deaths?" the Buffybot asked. She was a surprisingly good hacker, but frequently unsure what things _meant_.

"Put it in," Amy said reluctantly. "There's a hellmouth there but I'd feel better if we could prove demons were involved."

"Maybe the old white men were right," Kate said from the back of the room. Her knuckles were white with the strain of not punching anything. "At least where the Exalted are concerned."

Harmony shook her head. "Smaller groups. Lilah could, like, just walk into the EC and brainwash them all if it looked like she needed to. And even with a ton of disinform out there, I'm still seeing, like, thirty-five percent Republicans at the polls. Scattered, mostly rural, maybe not the peeps we want on our side...but she didn't fool everyone."

"She could probably have won just about anywhere," Amy summarized, "and the weird voting system didn't help. Hard to say if it hurt, but it didn't help."

Faith grunted. "Never wished so much we had a king still."

"Nuh-uh," Harmony said, "easy to just kill, even for a Fiend. Democracy isn't much of a safeguard but it's something."

"Maybe the power structure's why she ran as a Democrat to begin with," Amy suggested. "The Republican machine may be better, but not only are they smaller, they're harder for us to work with." She leaned back and gave Faith a smooch. "Case in point."

"Case in point," Faith said with a smirk.

*****

"I can do what you cannot," Daniel Holtz said patiently. "I can walk out of this place and blend with the mortals. I can carry our opposition to Lilah Morgan where it can take root and do some good."

Ralacken--or its heart, Herald of the Black Engine--paused to consider this, its only concession to sound the endless wheezing of bellows and thrumming of pumps. "I have agents and allies already whom you have not met. You could do me more good diverting the attention of her other enemies, whom you have already antagonized anyway. The truth is...I do not need you. Let alone your little misbegottens whom you have dragged down here with you."

Predictably, the older of the air-masked mortals began to tap Holtz on the shoulder and suggest leaving. Just as predictably, Holtz showed no sign of interest. "I have made deals with one devil to oppose another before, Justine. Trust that I will come out on top."

"I trust you on that, Papa," said the younger of the two. "I'm just not sure you're accounting for the consequences to the rest of us."

The Herald began to laugh, racking its ancient form with coughs, though the humans seemed not to recognize the emotion. "It is a failing among those who account themselves righteous, little one."

Holtz did not seem to understand the situation he had gotten himself into. "If you do not need my assistance, Ralacken, I can always simply leave."

The Herald laughed harder. "I do not believe you can. Take him to the present we were given, my people." The horde of gremlins that had lain hidden sprang from the walls to seize him. Holtz struggled, of course, until one of his minions put a knife to Sarah's throat. "Love. Always that weakness. Put them in the cells. And place him in the Monstrance."

*****

Kate unlocked her jaw from the M'Fashnik demon's throat, leaving it lying savaged on the floor of the Democratic Party headquarters, and felt her bones and muscles began to pop back into place as she forced the bear back inside. Terrified functionaries huddling against the walls slowly recovered their wits as they realized who she was.

"This is what you're dealing with," Kate said harshly. "The woman you're elevating to the highest office in the country works with these things, these demons. They're not going to negotiate with you or peacefully coexist with you. All they want us to do is die."

A young intern overcame his fear enough to come prod the demon's body. Had it been cheating to lure the demon here? It would have attacked someone somewhere.

"It's probably too late to change the election," Kate said more quietly. "But you don't have to treat her like one of you. You don't have to work with her. She's a caricature of a Democrat, a rogue lawyer who opens up the jails and shoves violent criminals back out onto the streets. I know that's not what you're really about, so show the rest of the country."

Kate turned to go, feeling the energy boil out of her. She was just undoing what Lilah had done. It wasn't the same at all.

*****

Justine waited just till they were out of Daniel's sight. She couldn't force him to worry about them; he had to focus on himself in this place. Then she caught Sarah's eye and shot a glance at a critical-looking pair of tubes in the neck of the robot-thing holding the younger woman. Together they reached up quick and yanked the things free, spraying oil or coolant or blood or something in all directions. The gremlins didn't just collapse, but they weakened and sagged, and in that moment each of them slammed fists into their captors' faces. _That_ laid them out.

Now it was a matter of disabling the weaker ones and avoiding the tough ones. Justine yoinked a buzzsaw thing from the nearest gremlin's belt-holster, cut it on with a hissing whine, and severed the cyborg's head. Sarah blinked at her.

Justine shrugged. "First rule of cyborg fighting: chainsaw good."

*****

"I really shouldn't be--" Riley began.

Harmony halted him with a finger on his lips. "You're not," she said, hips locked to his. "I'm, like, totally doing all the work here."

"I'm not supposed to--"

"Then why'd you say yes? I need the stress relief, you sure as hell need the stress relief...Ooh! Stress relief yay!"

"Harmony," Riley said, trying with extreme patience and difficulty to be rational, "I don't know that it's a good idea to get you pregnant."

"Been taking my pills," she said tolerantly. "I've been trying not to jump out of my skin around you since we met, much less since you Exalted. And it's not like you and Sam're being exclusive anymore...is it?"

Riley's hands clamped down on her wrists. "I've been sleeping with the other Dragon-Blooded women...because they need it. I'm not...convinced you do. I'm not sure I can stop myself right...now...but this is the last...time. Got...it?"

Harmony muttered under her breath, "Where is this Lunar mate I'm s'posed to have, anyway?" Then she added, "We can stop if you want. I'm not trying to--"

"Let's just finish up," Riley panted. "There's nothing...wrong with your...technique."

*****

"Jesus Christ," Justine snarled, prompting a hard look from Sarah. Their gremlin captors had been tough and brutal, but clearly Ralacken's prime warriors had been reserved for Daniel. "I don't think a rocket launcher could blow that thing." They were concealed on a narrow ledge above a biomechanical ravine leading to that monstrosity the Gremlin City had called a "monstrance"

Now that the immediate threat to Sarah was out of sight--Justine reluctantly accepted she didn't rate quite so high--Daniel was fighting tooth and nail to avoid being forced into that horrific cage. Mere numbers had no chance of overwhelming him, but those armored gremlins and demon-things were giving him difficulties, and Justine feared that if it went on too long, the Gremlin City itself would take a hand.

"Then we have to stop them from getting him into it," Sarah said grimly. Justine could see she had accepted failure already. She had spent half her childhood in the Quor'toth; she knew that there were some foes no mortal could defeat. But they might be able to give Daniel a better chance of escaping.

"Why leave the doors open?" Justine wondered, as Daniel slammed one of the machine-creatures into the thing. A pair of monsters yanked it out before the doors could swing shut of their own accord. "I don't think they can open them if they get closed. Maybe Ralacken would have to send one of its bodies."

"Let's find out," Sarah said. "Cover me, Mother." Never Mom, never anything so informal. But in the end, Sarah had finally begun to think of Justine as a mother. It felt strangely good.

Sarah--her daughter--took a running start and leapt from the ledge, seizing a cable that twisted and snapped at her hands. Justine raised the arm with her stake-shooter and began to fire methodically into the crowd of monsters. One, two, three--reload--one.... It lacked the punch it would have had against vampires, but few creatures were unfazed by a footlong stake to center mass.

The cable tried to carry Sarah up to some higher level, so she released it and dropped, rolling. She came up with a kick to the nearest creature's sternum, sending it reeling back. It missed the opening but slammed into the montrance door, which shut on another monster's limbs. In their struggle to keep the door open, the guardians allowed the creature to fall the rest of the way inside, and Sarah slammed her shoulder into the door. With a resounding clang, it snapped shut, and Sarah rolled away as if stunned by the mere contact.

Daniel snatched her up in an instant. Now it was a matter of getting out of this city of horrors alive. Even with him on their side, Justine didn't give much for their odds.

Then twin flares of silver light engulfed her vision.

*****

"That's two in a row off the map's edge," Lilah snapped. "And the map doesn't even _have_ an edge. I'm making the call--this plan of yours is an epic failure. No more Exaltations. Not one. I'll figure out how to make this work with what I've got."

Five Days' Darkness held out his hands imploringly to her. "Lilah, I've done everything possible to convey the big picture to you. This is a failure of vision."

"With today's releases," Lilah growled,"I count fifty Exaltations loose in the world. I call that forty-nine too many. I'm done." She turned away and touched the machine's keypad. "No one's going to break that encryption. As soon as I figure out how to exempt myself, everyone else goes back in the box. Don't even think of standing in my way."

Lilah turned on her heel and walked out, leaving the Wolf, the Ram, the Hart--once the most powerful beings active in the world--to wring their hands, shuffle their feet, and wonder what their next move might be.

*****

Amy focused her will and wrenched at the air molecules. She could do this. It was all telekinesis because everything was matter in motion.

A thin streamer of fire erupted out of nowhere and seared the paper target i. half. It fluttered loose from the wall, burning.

Light. Focus. Coherence. She hadn't specified a _green_ laser, but one speared through the bullseye.

She could do better. She'd deflected bullets with momentarily real solid metal plates. If she could create matter to defend--

A bullet pierced the last target through the eye. "Yes! Yeah! I got it!" Amy leapt up and clapped for herself. An audience would've been great but she didn't want to misaim.

"Got wh--?" A head poked around her door and Amy fired off a bolt of...something before realizing it was Oz. She had just an instant to try and wrench the energies into something less physical before they struck him. Oz staggered back against the wall, but the only visible sign she might have hurt him was the hand he put to his forehead.

"Oz? You okay? I didn't mean--"

"I'm fine," he said, rubbing his temples with one hand and shaking her off of him with the other. "I feel shook up. It didn't hurt."

Amy sighed and backed away from him. He was all right. But what had she done?

There was only one way to find out.

*****

"There will be no cakes," Drusilla announced. "Miss Edith has fumbled her dance steps once more."

"Like, seriously, I could have done better than this with my hands tied behind my back," Harmony scoffed.

"You don't even deserve the name minions," said Buffy coolly. "And considering who you are...."

"I need not stand here for this," said the Viator to the rapidly-shifting figure. "Your plans are not mine."

"They encompass yours," Holland Manners said. "Your concept of world domination through force is obsolete. Soon all things will crumble without further effort on our part. We need only prevent the so-called heroes of the world from acting."

"Divert them just a little longer," Andrew said, "and our dastardly plans will come to fruition. All that's left...."

"...is to make them suffer as much as possible before the end," Angelus finished.

"And just how do we accomplish that without more Abyssals?" the Master grumbled to the changing figment. "I thought you were supposed to be more coherent than the rest of your kind."

"I AM NOT TO BE QUESTIONED!" roared Ligier, the long-ago Green Sun, now a slowly cooling stellar remnant.

"Coherent? I am beyond and before death," Erembour sighed. "Before the apple, the word, the impulse...I was."

A foreshortened skull reared high above them, ignoring the low ceiling as if it were nothing, held aloft on an infinite skeletal neck. "I am the First Evil, the King of the Neverborn. And I will wring the last feeble cry of this cosmos from Buffy Summers' throat as the final vengeance of the Dragon That Was **."**


	3. The Death of Fire and Water

"Paperwork, coming through!" Anya called out, making her way through the offices. She clutched a bundle thicker than her chest between both hands. "Coming through!" Younger Sidereals moved dutifully aside, though some were slow and sour-faced about it. Righteous Tsunami, however, was helpful enough to open her office door.

Anya plopped the stack down into her outbox and picked up an equally-large stack from her inbox. "Ugh," she muttered. "At least I'm getting paid."

"Not if you go and get your salary garnished," Tsunami warned. "The Bureau has conceded that your recent commandeering of the Calibration Gate was justified, but you are not authorized to change its position, or to hold it in place, for at least one year. You know you're playing with fire, Anya."

"Good thing I'm on the Convention of Water, then," Anya said. Tsunami's jagged-striped shirt was attractive in itself but not exactly flattering to his figure. Well, that was how he liked it. "Heard I finally got assigned a manse?"

"You know I'm not inclined to grant your travel request," Tsunami said harshly. "You may be officially independent, but your husband's a Solar. As far as I'm--"

"And my wife is Bronze Faction," Anya pointed out quickly.

Tsunami made a slashing dismissive gesture. "You know there's nothing legally-binding about that, whatever the Maidens say. Well...you choose to honor it, so I suppose you have a point. And in any case, you're on your way to confront a Deathlord, not to meddle in local politics. I expect you to _keep a low profile_ , Anya. I know you can."

"Of course I can," Anya said coolly. "And if you need me to, I will."

"Here," Tsunami said, and dropped a silvery pentagonal stone into Anya's palm. "A stone of humble glory."

"A what?" Anya held it up and studied it. "Doesn't seem especially powerful," she said crankily.

Tsunami shrugged. "Make fewer enemies. It's right up your alley, though. As long as you tell the unvarnished truth, people will be inclined to do what you want."

"Oh!" Anya grinned. "Now that's a breath of fresh air. Thank you!" She unlimbered her powerbow and began settling the gem into its socket. "I'll treasure it always."

Righteous Tsunami threw back his head and laughed. "No doubt you will!"

**Chapter 60--The Death of Water and Fire**

Golden light shone around Buffy as the palanquin carried her down the street, borne by nervous erymanthoi. Or maybe it wasn't nerves; Ipithymia swarmed with neomah and all manner of other incubi and succubi. Blood apes didn't reproduce with sex, but they did like it.

Marzi lounged casually at Buffy's side, snuggling against her. Neomah didn't give birth either, or impregnate humans in the usual way. Fortunately. Buffy liked babies, but she wasn't sure she wanted one kicking around in her organs.

"You know you could carry the baby in your anima," Marzi murmured, and Buffy jumped. Had she spoken out loud? "It's an Adorjani thing. One of the less scary ones. Or we could just piece one together for you. Winifred's right. You should have an heir, just in case and to spread your rule while you live."

Oh. That was what it was. Marzi wasn't reading her mind. "I'm thinking about it." The idea of ruling forever was even less appealing than the idea of being pregnant. Living forever...sure, she could handle not dying. Running a country, though? It was enough to make her wish--j

No. No, no, no, a gazillion times no. The powers Sulumor had given her had been cut out of her, but she knew the path back to them. It would be all too easy to take them back, entirely on her own, and getting rid of them then would be even harder if it were possible at all. She needed some other kind of safeguard, but what?

The palanquin came to a halt. Buffy peered out the windows. Golden light still shone in imitation of the sun, and the streets still teemed with prostitutes. "Why're we stopping?"

"Don't look at me," Marzi said helplessly.

The doors popped open. On one side the Eater of Orchids stood with an unfamiliar neomah. On the other--Buffy's breath caught. A tall woman stood there, golden-skinned and four-armed and..."Ipithymia?"

"Buffy Summers," the living street said, smiling a smile that made Buffy want to puddle at her feet. "You've gotten strangely lax lately. What a shame if others eclipsed you in the Yozis' favor. You were doing so well."

Part of her cringed, but no sooner had Ipithymia mentioned the Yozis than her backbone firmed up. "I'm hard at work, but my friends needed my help."

"Of course," Ipithymia said indulgently, making Buffy tingle all over. "You've always made your friends and your work fit together before."

"And I will now," Buffy insisted. "I left another me, and I headed back as soon as I heard she wouldn't be enough."

"Hmm," Ipithymia said slowly. "Well, we did give you these powers. I suppose we can't very well fault you for using them, so long as things turn out all right. Eater of Orchids?"

"Thank you for taking care of my daughter," the man said quietly. He always spoke just loudly enough to be understood. "Buffy, come with me. Your palace is just off this street. We need to talk about your performance."

Well. That was ominous.

*****

"Nothing," Tara said finally, recalling the firefly light. "Either there was never another way in, or it's been sealed." The light flitted to the one door they knew of and hesitated there.

"Don't discount supernatural concealment," Fred reminded her, "but it should be safe to probe inside with that."

The light flitted through the crack in the door. "I only get a general impression, but it'll tell us something at least. Did you know anything at all about magic before you came here?"

Fred shrugged. "Are interdimensional travel equations magic or science? Throth-Shulgu didn't think the question meant much." She wished she'd been able to get the Deep Sage to talk to her again. "I had to be initiated here, so I guess it wasn't sorcery. But it might be thaumaturgy, or some magic that no one knows here."

"Mind the gap," Tara said in a rather ominous tone. "There's a big pit--no, a trench or moat--not far past the door. That's weird, it's not very deep. I feel rock just a couple of feet down."

Fred blinked and nearly barged in to take a look. "What sense does that make? Is it a track for something? An animal? A machine?"

Tara shook her head. "If that's what it is the thing that runs in it has to be far away. There's no--Here's a door and another chamber. It's got a touchpad."

"That doesn't make sense," Fred reminded her. "No reason to have access. I guess we could be in the wrong place."

"Decoy?" Tara suggested. "You stop to try and open the door or deactivate a trap but the pad doesn't do anything, or turns on something else you don't want."

"I'd believe that," Fred agreed. "Can you get inside?"

"I can," Tara said, "but there's a presence in there and it might notice me."

"Almost certainly a bound spirit of some sort," Fred decided. "Nothing else would last this long except maybe a robot."

"How long has it been in there?" Tara mused. "Over a thousand years? Is it still...y'know...ok?"

"If it's an elemental or a terrestrial god...maybe. If it's local at least. If it's a demon or a ghost or a raksha...." Fred shuddered. "Not as likely."

"Going insane," Tara said as lightly as she could manage, "not for the faint of heart."

"Been there, done that," Fred agreed. "Looks like you got better."

Tara nodded. "It was mystical. Willow got my marbles back. If not for her...I guess I'd be locked up somewhere so I couldn't hurt myself."

"You owe Willow a lot," Fred observed, "so how come you seem scared of her sometimes?"

"Willow's a good person," Tara said, "and I know that because power would've corrupted her a long time ago otherwise. Power is a tool, and sometimes it's a mistake to turn it down, but Willow likes it way too much. At first we had a lot of fun together, like we did on the way to Luthe. And then she started doing everything with magic, just as her routine."

Fred nodded. "I haven't seen much of that as an Abyssal, but her powers don't seem to leave much room for fun, and only so much for utility." With a sigh, she turned back to the door. "I think we've learned what we can from out here. You want to risk it or head back to Luthe?"

Tara put her hand to the door and shrugged, then shoved. "You're certain there's a way around it. We'll find one. That wording keeps nagging at me."

The door swung open, and heat hit them like a wall, followed by searing hot gases that left them coughing. "I thought you said the trench was empty," Fred wheezed.

Between hacking coughs, Tara managed to explain. "No...I said...it had a...rock floor. Couldn't tell...it was molten."

*****

It really was a palace. The tops of the towers were jagged, discolored metal, but clever artists had made the discoloration as beautiful a painting as any other pigment could have made and the jaggedness into a sculpted defense. The corridors twisted and roamed, but they didn't disorient, and the rooms fit together like puzzle pieces. The fierce masks were a little disconcerting, but they told her history, too.

None of that changed the comfort of the furniture or the spaciousness of the rooms. Cracked gemstones lit up with a touch; darkened glass kept out the heat and harsh light of the green sun. It was the palace of a Malificent, not a Cinderella, but it was no less wonderful.

Aphrodisia massaged her while Marzi served refreshments. Other demons roamed the halls but kept just out of sight as if wary of her. Only the unfamiliar neomah sat beside the Eater of Orchids, cuddled up to him in a bizarrely nonsexual way and very much covered. Both of them regarded her warily.

"Wait," Buffy said suddenly. " _She's_ the daughter?"

The Eater nodded solemnly. "Rianine. I came here to find her. None informed me what had become of her until Cearr leaned on the right people. I owe him a debt now."

Buffy leapt for it. "You're on our side?" Poor kid. There were a lot of ways humans could be transformed into demons, and most were irreversible even in her time.

"Unless you have become a Yozi loyalist since you were last heard from. You do not communicate often with the others." The Orchid-Eater accepted a bottle of ordinary wine and a tray of what looked like metal leaves. "You have your own circle of friends, which has its uses, but we worry that you don't trust us."

"The group includes Cyan. Not gonna trust her. Wouldn't be prudent." Rianine nodded at Buffy's remark and took a small cup of wine from her father.

"Wise enough, I suppose," the Orchid-Eater said, "but you share common interests with her and none with Mister Big." That was a loyalist Fiend somewhere on the Blessed Isle; no one was sure who he was impersonating, though Cearr and Cyan liked to joke that he was Regent Fuck-Off. He probably wasn't. Probably. "Sometimes you need to accept that you cannot trust fully but must do so in part."

"I've been there and I've done that," Buffy grumbled. It hadn't always been bad; she thought Angel had been the first of those and he'd turned out...well, not all bad, at least. "Cyan hasn't screwed me over yet, and Sulumor has, and I thought she was my actual friend."

"Sulumor?" The Guardian raised his eyebrows at that. "Sulumor is Dune Folk, Buffy. She was raised to eat other humans. She may have learned to work with the rest of us...but to be a friend? Surely not."

"Do you think I can bring her over?"

"Hmm." The Orchid-Eater mulled that over. "She is not like us...but she acts from ambition, not true loyalty to the Yozis. I have my doubts that she intentionally betrayed you--she offered you the power you asked for and has since appeared confused that you rejected it. Your kingdom lies next to hers. If anyone can gain her allegiance, it would be you. But Buffy, we must speak of other matters."

"Ok. Smooth transition, that was not." Buffy spread out her hands. "Ipithymia said I wasn't doing as well as before."

"Not that." The Guardian took a long drink. "All of us rise and fall in the Yozis' favor, and your current task is a thankless one, I can assure you. First, come with me to your manse's hearthroom." He rose.

The corridors wriggled like snakes, but somehow failed to lose either of them. They were rising toward the center. "The Yozis cannot combine their powers," he told her. "But we can. And as we can synthesize new powers for ourselves and them, so too can we create new...blended powers they cannot use."

"Yozi smoothie powers?" Buffy chuckled. "Nice. Sounds like fun."

"Undoubtedly," the Guardian agreed. "I have nothing I can readily show you--a defense against transformative effects I call Emerald Angel Unfurling. But no doubt you can produce your own, given a little time. Ah...here we are." He slid back a pair of double doors, and the three of them emerged onto the roof, where a pool steamed and bubbled under the green light of the sun.

"I'm thinking taking a dip in the pool might not be a great idea," Buffy sighed. Even with the seething, the tiled edges and slightly-twisted ladders might have been a jacuzzi, perhaps, but she was sure that was vitriol, not water.

"You could," the Guardian demurred. "Though you might perhaps discourage others. In fact, you should get in. The hearthstone is at the bottom."

Buffy muttered under her breath and dove in. The acid stung, but no worse than a bowl of good chili would burn her tongue. Her skin tingled refreshingly. She picked up the stone and surfaced, holding up the translucent green gem. Something--a bug of some sort?--lay entombed at the center, but she couldn't make out what.

"A stone of the chrysalis, as I was told," the Orchid-Eater said, showing metallic teeth. "I hear you've been developing some interestingly...transformative powers of late. All you need do is sleep or meditate, and you will awaken in a new form."

"Not the biggest fan," Buffy sighed. Well, she had found some shapes she was comfortable with. Wings...prehensile hair. It couldn't be all bad.

*****

"This is...oddly simple," Fred coughed. "I mean...." A burst of hacking overcame her briefly.

Tara took a step closer to the lava. She thought she understood. "Lava is deadly, but it's not complicated. You don't have to puzzle it out, with the right magicks." She took another step, and another, feeling her body shift into sync with the heat and toxic fumes. The coughing eased, then halted. She walked right up to the trench and looked down, feeling warm and no more.

"It's one thing...we can do...more easily...than Solars. In some ways...at least." Fred continued coughing. "I think...you've got...a higher tolerance...than me though."

"Keeping up with the Scoobies takes some doing," Tara admitted, "but I didn't live in the woods for five years." She leaned over the edge. "Even my clothes aren't catching fire."

"You've got one...up on Buffy, then," Fred laughed. "Her clothes keep... getting burned off. I don't know...I lived by...the seat of my pants, Tara. Not...." A fit of coughing overwhelmed her, and didn't pass this time.

Tara rushed back and crouched beside Fred, who could only lie there hacking. "Try. I'm sure you can do this." She made an effort to haul Fred up over her shoulder, but even the skinny physicist was too much for her. "You survived Leviathan's attack before you had that fancy armor thing."

A carapace of white bone crusted over Fred's coughing form, this time covering even her head, leaving tiny slits for her eyes and mouth. "That might protect you from the heat a while," Tara warned, "but I still can't carry you, and the fumes--"

Fred attempted to crawl up and over Tara's shoulder, her body still racked by coughs. "All right," Tara said reluctantly. She tried channeling the powerful magics directly into her muscles and, to her surprise, felt them responding. It wasn't much of a boost, but she struggled to her feet with Fred in her arms.

"Full Moon," Fred wheezed. Tara frowned. She was certain she wasn't going to end up--wait. It _was_ full right now, wasn't it? Tara burned more energy into her aura and felt the burden ease. Silver light shone around her, and she took off at a run. Fred had already breathed too much of the toxic gas.

Tara reached the lava trench...and leapt over the edge. She dropped two feet, then landed on a surface that undulated like jello but held her weight. It might be different for Buffy, but as far as natural interaction was concerned, lava was far too dense for a human to sink into. Her feet made little bowl shapes on the surface as she ran, a surface that should have burned her feet away in moments but just felt like warm houseshoes. In a moment or two she leapt up and over the opposite ledge, but she kept running till she reached an alcove several yards away. The air was cooler here but not much more breathable. Here was the door with the keypad.

Why was it even here? No one should be going deeper into the tomb anyway. A silly thought struck her. She reached out and tapped the big button that seemed to serve as an "enter" key or call button. No code was needed, so why should there be one?

The door slid open, releasing cool fresh air. Tara stumbled inside and sat Fred gently against the wall. She would be okay. She just needed a little time to recover. That was all. It must be.

*****

"I'll send up a flare," TARA said, and shot a sparkling burst of fireflies into the sky. "They should notice that."

"They'd better," Spike said from beneath his lifeboat. "I'm not sure how much more of this I can take."

Dawn scribbled some notes in the "ship's log" that was serving as her diary. "They're slowing," she observed. "They saw that." They'd been pursuing Luthe for three days now, but the immense city ship was just too fast for the splinter of a vessel they were sailing, Wyldborn powers or not. "What you were talking about, TARA...would I have my memories?"

TARA shook her head sadly. "Nothing. You'd at least be part of the real world, though."

Dawn crossed her arms. "Nope. Not a chance. My memories are all that make me me. Especially now."

"I just thought I would offer," TARA said. "There's a risk that I could have to hurt you, and I don't want that."

"Then don't," Dawn told her curtly. No matter what anyone else said, this robotgirl didn't seem much like Tara at all. She went off to the bow to wait and watch the city-ship approach.

Even with Luthe's engines slowed it took at least an hour to catch up, and a while longer to moor their "primitive" boat to the city. In the middle of it, though, Xander came scooting down the ladder and leapt onto the deck in front of her. Wow. Just wow. If he'd been magnificent before.... "Xander," she said.

"Dawn," he answered, and smiled. "You're looking...different. All grown up." He patted her on the shoulder. "For you it's okay, for now, but just so you know, I'm asking new people to call me 'Alexander' in public now. Maybe you too, if it's formal."

Dawn grinned at him. "It's fine. I'm trying to come up with a formal raksha name myself. Still haven't remembered the one I started with." _I am beautiful and terrible,_ she thought, only half at him. _Everyone adores me._ And she leaned forward--she was taller than him now!--and kissed him on the lips, weaving a gossamer thread about him as she did. You _are beautiful and terrible. Everyone adores_ you.

Xander looked startled for a moment before--thankfully--deciding to trust her. The enchantment settled over him, redoubling his magnificence. "Lot of girls throwing themselves at me these days," he said when she finally broke the kiss. "At everyone really, but I sure have taken the best of it."

"No guys?" Dawn snickered. "I'll have to revise my stories about you."

"Some guys, actually," he said, surprising her. "I don't think Leviathan will like you much, though."

"I'll persuade him," she said confidently.

"You can try," Xander said. "He's been around the block a few times."

TARA gave Xander a concerned look before deciding to go on aboard, as did Spike and Angel, cloaked in tarps. Stephen, however.... "He's the Lunar elder? And he likes you?"

"I was his lover in a past life," Xander said with a matter-of-fact nonchalance that belied the irritation Dawn could tell he felt. "He's pretty attached."

"Stephen," Dawn said, turning to face him imperiously, "go get settled in. Meet Leviathan if you like." Stephen blinked at her, bowed slightly without realizing it, and hurried off.

"Handy," Xander said as Willow and then Buffy--well, other-Buffy, the so-called Unconquerable Shadow--came scooting down the ladders beside Stephen going up. "Annoying little shit."

"He has his points," Dawn admitted. "But yeah, he can be a pain. Wi--Scholar. Shadow. Hi guys! Where's the others?"

"Buffy and Anya got called away on business," Willow said. "Fred's showing Tara the ropes of being a Lunar."

"She Exalted? That's awesome!" Dawn burst out in spite of herself. Most raksha wouldn't understand that, except maybe if they thought having Exalted friends would benefit them, but she wasn't most raksha, and she was pretty sure she still felt friendship. She thought. "She's a Lunar?"

"Buffy's mate," Willow said unhappily. Dawn frowned. She was pretty sure that wouldn't make Tara and Buffy be lovers if they didn't want to be. So what was the matter with Willow? Surely Tara hadn't left her. Was it just her looks? She _was_ getting worse. "I hope it doesn't mess her up. She's kind of Ma-Ha-Suchi now."

"Oh," Dawn said, understanding. That...thing...that had attacked Gem was part of Tara now? No wonder Willow had the wiggins.

"Tara's strong," Shadow said. "She'll manage. Come on, let's have a sister talk?"

After being away so long? That sounded almost _fun_.

*****

"I didn't realize I could do that," Tara said as Fred finally began to come around.

"Being Exalted is like that," Fred agreed, "a lot, actually. Strength isn't likely to be your big thing, but it's hard to be an Exalt and never fight. Where's the thing that was supposed to be in here?"

"Still trapped," Tara said, "maybe because I didn't try to put in a password. I just hit the open button. It's here, though."

"Something feels off," Fred worried. "It seems too easy."

"What if it is?" Tara asked. "I mean...what if it's not meant for us? Like in Harry Potter when the traps are meant to stop Death Eaters, so they hardly bother the kids at all?"

"That'd be easier to believe if they'd been higher-tech," Fred said with a frown. "We might figure out things that someone who grew up here couldn't. The keypad thing, maybe. But a lava pit? Lots of Exalts can get past that just like you did. I might be able to, but I got too big a lungful of that toxic gas first. You strike me as more the nature girl type. I can imagine you going literally anywhere and stuff just avoids you. You know, like...is it Balder?"

Tara grinned and giggled. "You know about Balder the Beautiful?"

"Beautiful? I thought he was Balder the Brave?"

"Only in the comics--well, I mean, he's probably brave in the myths too, but he's the original Norse bishounen," Tara explained. "He's summer. That's why he dies. But we need to get moving. I think we should assume whatever's bound here isn't getting out." That was a little sad, but it might have been too strong for them. She quickly recited the incantation to Aradia and sent the firefly light out to search beyond the second door.

"I miss Willow," Fred said. "It's weird because I don't even know her that well. I feel like I do. I want to get the chance to talk with her, and curl up with her--sorry, I'm babbling--"

"You remind me of her," Tara said. "She babbles too. It's adorable. Honestly, if we weren't together I might ask you out. Only you'd probably say no, cause--"

"I don't know," Fred interrupted in return. "I like more men than women, but I've made out with a woman or two before. Always when I was a little stoned, but I enjoyed it. What've we got out there?"

"Water," Tara said. "With fish in it. There's an airlock afterwards. Haven't checked past that yet." She probed further. "Another chamber with a spirit. I'm not sure if we can avoid this one."

"I wonder if they're not just there to keep people from searching past them," Fred suggested. "If this one doesn't attack, I think you should just keep searching past any others we find."

"Sounds reasonable to me," Tara agreed. "Let's get this door open."

It took a couple of minutes to hunt down the completely unmarked touchpad, lending support to the idea that they'd bypassed a troublemaking spirit. If it'd been trying to kill them, they'd have been in much bigger trouble. The metal wall slid down much faster than Tara had expected, releasing a wave of water to crash down over them. Fred went squid immediately, leaving Tara with a mouthful of air as the sudden change left her moments to inhale. Stupid, stupid!

Stupid, but not powerless. She could walk on lava; she could breathe water. Tara fumbled with the energies suffusing her and made it so. Very deliberately she let her last bit of air bubble upwards and inhaled water. It felt heavy and a little cold, but her thoughts and vision remained clear. A school of jellyfish collided with her, and she braced for pain, but none came.

She was surrounded by all manner of marine life, an interior ecosystem deliberately cultivated here somehow. She tried asking Fred if they had time to hunt here, but her power was unlike Buffy's, and the water reduced her voice to a gurgle. Tara resorted to pantomime, and finally Fred responded by pointing upward with a tentacle pad. _Thumbs up._

Drowning wouldn't be enough. Something here would've been set to hunt her. Time to turn the tables on it.

*****

"I know they made you. I know what they made you _from_ ," Shadow explained. "So now we have something in common. I'm just a copy of the real Buffy...but at the same time I'm my own person now. You are too."

"Buffy, I...I'm not sure I'm a person at all," Dawn said. "All the books here say...and I chose everything about this body...and...."

"I'm done with all that," Shadow insisted. "I'm tired of talking to people with feelings and dreams and having to believe it's all fake. If you try to hurt someone I care about, I'll stop you, but _please_ don't force me to."

"That's really strange coming from an Abyssal," Dawn pointed out.

"I'm the end of the line," Shadow said. "I'm the end of the mission, and the lies too. If the world needs me, I'll help, but I'm not alone any more, and I'm not killing any more demons just because they're demons. Or ghosts or raksha or anything else. That's what I'm ending."

"I don't think the Neverborn are gonna be satisfied with that." Buffy's resolve made Dawn happy, sure, but.... "At least, not unless they know it'll get the world destroyed."

Buffy swayed and put her hand to her head. "You let me worry about the Neverborn, Dawnie. I'm not afraid of them. I'm going to be the one that kicks their undead butts. Clear? Now let's see what we have to do to get some ice cream in this high-tech dump."

It was clear all right. It was clear something new was wrong with Buffy. Now what did she want to do about it?

*****

"I wasn't expecting to fight the Scorpion King!" Tara shouted, narrowly dodging a stinging tail.

"It's called a tinsiana," Fred called back as she slipped between the pincers of another. "They're pretty generally evil, so don't hold back."

"I figured that," Tara lied. Though their expression looked furious, she'd been taking into account that they might just be compelled to fight. Translating the new understanding into tactics was another thing, though, and they seemed to have guessed that she was the weaker of the two. Two of the three had focused on her, and Fred was having trouble assisting her without exposing her own back.

A full moon, incongruous though it felt, shimmered on Tara's brow now. They'd had some time to rest after the hunt, but not enough. Surely Luna opposed these creatures just as much as the Sun, but how did she express that? A glimmer came to her, a stance, and silver energy glimmered around her body as she dodged around a darting tail. If these things poisoned her, she'd be helpless fast. The creature suddenly flinched from stinging her and recoiled. "Demons don't like holy things," she called. "Dad would throw a fit!"

"Good job!" Fred shouted back. "That's not going to win the fight for us, though! Got another good idea?"

What would Willow do? No, she'd just toss lightning at it or something. "Can I do that thing...the one where you just change part of your body?"

"Probably?" Fred wasn't sure, and that could be trouble. "Focus on the parts you want to use, and change your image of what it means to be human. You're always human in your soul; remember that."

That didn't sound too hard. Leaping over the tinsiana's leg sweep, Tara pulled back her arm and punched the creature hard in its humanlike face. "What was that?" Fred sounded worried...then gasped and began to snort laughter as the tinsiana toppled over.

"Sea wasp. Most venomous creature in Earth's oceans," Tara said, shaking out her sore hand. "Not too shabby here either."

"Those jellyfish?" Fred laughed, tying up her tinsiana quickly in weblines. "You must've been quick. Just remember, learning new stuff will get a little harder soon. I'm glad you've picked out a few weapons."

"Had to," Tara said quietly as they finished off the last demon. They worked well together, but she would never really enjoy hurting or killing.

She hoped.

*****

"You're sure about this?" Kate worried. For once the alley was actually sunlit, and looked all the grimier for it.

"Nope," Faith said. "I'm kinda worried about saying it wrong and ending up...I dunno, on Bizarro-world or something. But we need someone with more experience, and short of raising the dead, that means Buffy."

"Does she really have the kind of experience you're looking for?" Harmony wondered. "Lilah Morgan's not exactly Mayor Wilkins."

"If she doesn't, Giles might," Faith suggested. "Or I might even try asking one of the Exalted from there. Someone's got to know how to take down a sleazy politician who's always five steps ahead of you, and it's not me."

"I just hope you can get back," Kate worried. "They meant to be there a week or less and come right back, and that...didn't go as planned."

"They didn't know how to get back till it was too late," Faith argued. "Now stand back. I'm gonna say it before I lose my nerve."

The vortex was purple this time. Faith took a deep breath and a running leap, and found herself stumbling through an actual physical gateway. The crumbling walls of an ancient tower stood around her, its double doorway empty, and behind her a gemstone-studded arch.

Scowling, Faith stalked outside onto the barren beach of a rocky island. Beyond the narrow outcrop of land lay only open sea. She put a hand to her face. "God _damn_ it!"

*****

Tara and Fred were sagged against the bare rock wall of the tomb together, Tara's head in Fred's lap. Sleeping didn't seem like the best of ideas, but she was wearing down, and Fred had agreed to keep watch. Tara's brain, however, was not cooperating. "Is it day or night out there? I mean, it's either got those little glowy gems or it doesn't in here but I can't actually get myself to believe it's really night time, y'know?"

"If it helps, it's nine-fifteen at night." Tara looked at her quizzically. "Don't waste the energy now unless you have to see for yourself, but it just takes a little spark. How does Willow help you sleep? Magic?"

Tara went bright red, and Fred felt her face flush in return. "It's okay. It was a p-perfectly reasonable question."

"Um...did your mother sing to you?" God, that had been a fumble, with Tara lying on her like this. She _was_ cute...no, that was the drowsy talking, and Fred had seen the complicated mess Xander and Anya had made of their relationship. She didn't have anyone of her own, but the last thing she wanted to do was get between Willow and Tara.

"She did, but it doesn't help much. I'm not sure it ever did. I'm just sort of wound up." Tara blushed again. "N-not like that! We're off on a m-mission!"

"It's okay," Fred assured her. "Honestly, most of us seem a little wound up that way. The worst of it seems to go along with enhanced senses and...um, stamina. I'm sure you can think of reasons."

"Makes sense to me," Tara said. "Everything stimulates you more and you can keep going longer. I'm not a prude for being a little uneasy about that, am I? I've known Buffy for a while and she always did seem a little...hyped up."

Fred shook her head firmly. "It's okay to be nervous about new things. And you've always seemed pretty open to me for being as shy as you are."

"It's a reaction," Tara said. "Grew up in the--" A rumble from deeper in the caverns cut her off. "Ugh. So much for napping."

"We'll get there," Fred assured her. "We'll get back to Luthe and you can snooze as long as you need to."

The walls shook. "Who violates my rest? Who would dare invade my tomb?" Tara went pale, and Fred suddenly realized she had danced around this aspect of the expedition every time it had come up.

Suddenly Tara shook herself and stood up. "It's the inscription. They've got him defending his own tomb against intruders. He hasn't been able to rest for _fifteen hundred years_ , Fred. I didn't want to think about it, but it's not just okay for us to be here. It's _right_." And she strode off down the tunnel.

"What?" Fred scrambled to her feet. "Tara, what are we doing?"

"Mercy, Fred. Remember?"

*****

"Bloody hell! Is there anyone you won't screw nowadays, Harris?" Spike covered as best he could. He didn't care if Harris and the Bit slept together--except on the general principle that the former deserved to suffer, which admittedly was rather important to him.

"You," Harris said far too casually, and attempted to pull the blankets up over Dawn--who, however, sat up and grinned impishly at Spike.

"Not worried about _that_ ," Spike said irritably. "But Bit, you deserve better than him."

"Like who?" Dawn asked, a glint in her eye. "You? Feel free to join us. I'm sure Alexander won't mind. Right...Admiral?" She began to slide out of the bed.

Buffy would wring his neck! Either or both of them! Spike stammered something and fled the room.

The old Scooby Gang was getting far too confident to make him comfortable. Only, where else to go in this world? Buffy was fine here and showed no interest in him any more, so far as he could tell. Maybe it was time to pack the bags and head home.

The corridors were shiny and clean. and seemingly endless. He opened the door that he was certain ought to lead to his temporary apartments and stopped in his tracks. Wrong room. "Red."

Willow glanced up at him. The whites of her eyes, at least, were red. Her face and body still showed traces of her old looks, but only traces. Her exposed flesh was shriveled and blackened. "Spike," she said flatly. "I haven't seen you lately."

"I've been here and there," he said. "I don't suppose that lets up when you feed?"

Willow shook her head regretfully. "I think it's going to keep getting worse. Tara's not going to stay much longer. Fred might hang around, but only because she can't help it."

Spike gave that news the harsh laughter it deserved. "Fred seems less shallow than that, far as I can tell. As for the witch, seems to me she's always cared more about the soul than the container--long as that container has a quim, mind. She may not go for the gold quite so often, but I doubt she's leaving the race. The question is, when're you going to work out how to look different for a while?"

Willow blinked. "You think I should use a glamour?"

"Call it what you like, Red. All I know is, I don't see the Exalted letting little things like looks stand in their way."

*****

The ghost leveled a gun of some sort at her. Tara ignored it. Well...she paid it no mind. Ignored was too strong a word. "How long?" she asked.

The man--a grizzled veteran in a visor and faint golden armor--tossed his head like an irritated stallion. "Long enough," he muttered, and fired.

Tara stepped aside and let the beam pass her, startling him. "You've been alone all this time?"

"Have to guard this place," the once-Solar said. "Company's no use." He fired again, and once again the beam seared uselessly into the stone wall. "You can't _do_ that. I'm Bright Guardian of Day. I'm a general in the Deliberative army. I don't care if you're an Exalt, you can't sidestep my shots that easily."

"I'm sorry, Bright Guardian," Tara said quietly. "You've been dead a long time. They set you to guard your tomb and everything in it."

"No! Who would dare--?" Bright Guardian halted. "The massacre at the feast. The Dragon-Blooded...the Sidereals...no! The Terrestrials swarmed us like rats." He attempted to lower his weapon, then struggled for a moment and brought it to bear on Fred as she walked around the bend. "They have me bound. I can't not guard this place."

"What place?" Tara asked simply, and the ghost jerked aside as it fired, pointing its weapon down the tunnel.

"The tomb's in there. But you mustn't reach it--"

"Stop us," Tara said, and shot down the tunnel with her hand in Fred's. Blaster fire echoed, and she shoved Fred across the tunnel and dove in the other direction. The cavern was littered with bones. The seeming ease of the early traps had lured in uncounted treasure hunters, only for them to reach this point of no return and perish.

The ghost was armed with ancient high-tech weapons and armor. If it had retained its Solar powers, Tara would have died before she knew what was happening. As it was, she still couldn't let him strike home. Not even once. And her energy was running low. Not good.

Bones whirled into the air. "If you think you can make me blast the door open for you, you're mistaken.". Ancient and not-so-ancient ribs and femurs fractured against the walls, becoming a dizzying cyclone of shrapnel.

If she weren't close to the door, he wouldn't be concerned. But it would be concealed, perhaps magically. Whispering, she summoned up the firefly light again and sent it through the walls before it could draw attention. There. That was the other side. She was close. Tara felt for a lever, a button, anything. A fragment of skull slashed her face; a broken rib pierced her wrist. She wasn't going to have time. Where was Fred? Had she been knocked unconscious? Killed?

" Found it!". Tara called out, and dove frantically to the side. A burst of white energy seared past her and shattered the rock face, leaving a clear path into the room beyond. Tara dropped to all fours and rolled through the door, catching a glimpse of a cockroach buzzing past. Fred had sensibly made herself hard to hit.

The room was stacked high in silver and gold--no telling how much of it was orichalcum and moon silver, really. Living tapestries draped the walls. A little sluggish river of lava cut across the chamber, glowing with red-gold light. Great chests stood against the wall, closed to conceal who knew what. And raised in a little starmetal-grey framework, an uncarved crystal the size of an apple and shaped like an egg shone lava light reflected from the floor up onto a golden-amber gemstone that sat in a niche on a huge stone sarcophagus.

The floor was empty of bones. No one had ever reached this far. No one had even tried talking to the guardian? Of course not. They had come here to raid...and the Sidereals' curse had fallen on them. They had shown no mercy, and had died without it as certainly as a man in a hot zone would die without a protective suit.

"This looks important," Tara said, stepping toward the framework, her hand outstretched for the crystal.

"It binds me here," the ghost said simply, and raised his weapon. Tara feinted a grab for it, leapt aside as the energy burst shot past her, and kicked it out of the frame. "Thank you," Bright Guardian whispered, and flickered out like a shot bulb.

The volcano rumbled like an angry dragon, the stone set into the sarcophagus cracked with an explosive sound, and the little lava river surged up in flood. "Well, poop," Tara sighed.

Fred popped into visibility next to her. "Darn it," she grumbled. "Grab what you can carry. He must have been tied into this place's geomancy. Don't ask me how."

"I don't think we're getting out with much," Tara worried. She might survive the lava flows, but could she escape if they buried her?

Fred picked up a weapon from the lid of the sarcophagus, a golden duplicate of the pallid one the ghost had carried. "Show me the nearest outside wall," she said, "and we'll blow this popsicle stand."

*****

Faith gazed out over the water in all directions. To the west, endless water seemed to dissolve into a chaotic mixture of colors. The north and south seemed much the same, though not as bright. But in the east, the ocean and the clouds seemed to melt together into one endless wall of water. That had to be the wrong way.

It was going to be a long flight. Faith rose from the ground and shot west like a rocket.

*****

"Well," Fred said, "we got what we came for.". Their little skiff contained two chests, a few unknown devices that looked interesting, and several hearthstones, not counting the one that had shattered, of course. " And we put a very old ghost to rest. I would've liked to get the rest, but this counts as a win to me."

"I guess the rest will be there for someone who can dig through hardened lava," Tara said as the boat skimmed quietly out into the ocean. "Didn't you say artifacts were usually indestructible, or nearly so?"

Fred began to nod. Just then the volcano let out a roar and a burst of burning ash. The sea kicked up a great circular wave that slammed the two of them into the railing, and Tara found herself mashed into Fred and clinging to something that was decidedly not a rail. Her face was inches from the other woman's, and dizzily, she felt their lips brush. The boat stabilized, but the kiss grew briefly forceful.

Then, by mutual but unvoiced agreement, both of them guiltily pulled away. "Er," Tara said, "I think this is where we say 'let us never speak of this again,' right?"

Fred nodded vigorously and hurried to the tiller. "Let us never speak of this again," she agreed. It was for the best.


	4. Fantastic Voyage

After fifteen minutes Faith thought she might have made a mistake. After thirty she was certain she was going the wrong way and turned around.

It made no difference. The huge conglomeration of water melted back into confusion and chaos almost at once. No matter how she turned or twisted there was no way to keep it in view for more than a few moments. Fred had mentioned the Wyld, where reality was fluid, but if Faith had managed to leave direction itself behind there might be literally no way back to Creation, let alone back home to Earth.

Faith panicked, spiraling about in midair--well, midflight, anyway. There were no longer any familiar navigation marks, not even gravity to define up and down. "Below" her the shape of a knee flexed. To her "right", a pair of stop signs. "Behind" her there galloped about five hooved things that might have been horses, heading into the sky.

Maybe they knew where they were going. Faith gave desperate chase, dropping onto the last one as she reached it. She wrapped her legs around its neck...and they sank in. Faith struggled, trying to rise and wrench free, but the creature simply galloped higher, its head and neck dissolving into her torso. It was eating her! Faith shoved at the body and barely managed to yank her hands out before they, too, merged inside.

For what seemed like ages she fought to free herself and the creature fought to eat or absorb her. Finally the pull weakened, but at the same time the sensations from her lower body altered. The tail attached to the creature's rump flicked at something, and she _felt_ it; she willed it still, and it stopped. She touched the horse-thing's sides and back, and her hands no longer sank in, but she could feel the contact.

So now she knew what Buffy was afraid of. How the _fuck_ was she supposed to go home looking like this? Worse, she'd been here no more than an hour or so. If this kept up, by the end of the day, she'd be a blob or a ball of mismatched limbs or...nothing. Just dissolved.

Something answered that inside her. The power that made her a Slay...a Night caste shored up her form and made her feel more stable. _Why now, damn it? Why not first?_ But of course she was reacting to a danger she hadn't realized existed.

The rest of the herd was vanishing into the distance. If they got out of sight, her attempt was worse than wasted. She hurled herself into a gallop again and began to close the distance.

**Chapter 61--Fantastic Voyage**

Faith slowly caught up to the horses and realized as she did that she was in an actual place. More than a place. A small meadow surrounded by trees. A path led off through the forest, defined by a log fence as much as by wheel ruts. Was this Creation? If so, she'd somehow made a big jump.

A windmill and barn came into view, unpainted and a bit ramshackle. A small farmhouse. People stared as she trotted past; they looked entirely human in their ragged grey clothes. She had to be the strangest thing they'd ever seen. Which didn't make a lot of sense. Surely other things came out of the Wyld.

A man with the top of his head shaved appeared on the road ahead. His white robes looked less haggard than the clothes she'd seen on anyone else. "Strumpet!" he shouted, which meant nothing to her, but it was probably the same as "Tramp!" which he said next. "Whore!"

"Hey," Faith growled, "what the hell is your problem?"

"Thou strollst about with thy womanly parts unclad, and wonderst what is my problem?" The monk or priest or whatever he was glared at her, eyes narrow with rage.

"My...womanly parts?" Faith still had her shirt, no worse the wear, and even a sports bra underneath it. She didn't have anything on her horse's ass, but she couldn't see what about it was "womanly", and couldn't reach the damn thing anyway.

"Strumpet!" the monk yelled again.

"Where the hell do you get off complaining and how do you expect me to cover it anyway?" She was on the verge of kicking him in the head and trampling him as she left.

To her surprise the monk pulled something resembling an enormous pair of shorts from his big-ass sleeves. "Thou'lt allow me to help thee?"

Faith snarled at him and began taking off her shirt. To hell with it. No one but Faith Lehane controlled Faith Lehane's sexuality.

"Dost thou not know that these parts teem with raksha? They wilt doubtless ravage thy self-control and make a brood mare of thee, helpless slave to thy lusts."

With her shirt over her face she couldn't see his expression. She pulled it back down. "And that thing'll stop 'em?"

"Doubtless, doubtless. Without it they'll certain sure make of thee naught but an animal in perpetual heat." He _looked_ honestly worried.

"Fine," she grumbled. It wasn't worth the risk. "Help me."

She stepped into it--it was a harness as much as shorts--and let him pull it up over her butt. "Lift thy tail to open the flap for shit. Move it to the side for piss."

"Good to know. And what if I wanna--?"

The monk stared wonderingly at her. "Surely thou dost not wish to let thy animal lusts control thee. If thou wert fully human it might be different, but look at thyself. By proportion thy body is at least four fifths beast, only one fifth part woman."

Was he right? Would she lose control if she gave in to being horny? Maybe it was better this way. Faith wasn't bright, but she was smarter than a Clydesdale. It was a disturbing feeling how secure the shorts made her feel. It didn't make sense for her to be afraid of sex. She was, though.

She felt an odd sensation of eyes on her back, combined with boredom--then a jolt as if she'd been pushed. The monk was gone, though his gift remained. The trees seemed as if they might have shifted about too. Were they just in different places, or were they a different kind entirely?

Whispers drifted out of the woods. "--use is she if--?" "a Solar...just wasn't prepared--" "--well then what--?" "--prepare her--"

"I can _hear_ you!" Faith shouted, and immediately regretted it. If she'd stayed quiet she'd have heard more.

Two young women strolled out of the trees, one no more than a girl of fifteen or so, the other maybe about twenty-five. "Faith!" the younger one called. "We've been looking for you."

Faith frowned at them. They seemed familiar. They looked...kind of like her. The younger one was darker-complected and had straight hair. The older one was fairer overall and tall. "You've been looking for me." She said it flatly, doubtfully.

"Well," the older one amended. "Looking for some help. We need a third to join us."

"I don't know if you noticed," Faith lied, "but I'm just short of useless out here. I'm not sure I can get back at all."

"You're too hard on yourself, Faith," the younger girl said. "We can fix that. You just need some tools."

"Tools?" That didn't sound too bad.

"Graces," the older of the pair said. She reached into her purse and pulled out a golden band that might have been a crown, except that it had a rounded leather section clearly meant to go over Faith's eye.

Faith took it, spun it around, and placed it on her head, removing her eyepatch. The band fit snugly and should have hurt, but was actually very comfortable. "This is a...Grace?"

"A Ring Grace, specifically," said the younger. "By the way, my name is Hope." She reached into her pouch and removed something made from cloth straps, then stared curiously at it. "This was supposed to be your Cup Grace. I don't know what it is."

Faith began to laugh. She took it and turned aside before putting the bra on. "Nice," she said. It also fit her perfectly. "How many of these things are there?"

The older girl stared curiously as Faith pulled her shirt back over her head. "For the...for a Creation-born, only four. Well...unless we made you a Way Grace, and neither of us knows how. I'm Charity."

Faith raised an eyebrow at that. "So we're Faith, Hope, and Charity. And I bet you're helping me out of the goodness of your hearts."

"Of course we are," Hope insisted. "We're sisters."

"Sisters. Yeah." Faith rolled her eyes. "I've never seen--"

Hope removed another item from her pouch, a wooden stake or maybe spear the length of Faith's arm. "Staff Grace. Charity?"

"See, these are yours, Faith," Charity said, pulling the blade that the Mayor had given Faith from her purse. The one Buffy had stabbed her with. The hospital had lost it, or maybe it'd been taken by the Watchers. "We're looking out for you. Remember. See, here's your Sword."

Faith squinted at it. If it was a fake, it was a good one. "What do these do?"

"They'll let you defend yourself better against the Unshaped," Charity said. "And you can shape their dreams, too, so you can fight back."

"I don't think you can learn proper raksha powers like we did," Hope said regretfully. "You're not the right type of Exalted. But this'll be enough. With you on our side we have a chance of getting where we need to go."

"Where's that?" Faith asked, narrowing her eyes. Surely she'd have remembered her sisters before now--well, half-sisters; none of them had the same father--but they had played together in the South Boston slums. She had kept the bullies off Hope and been protected from the gangs by Charity. She couldn't have made it on her own, could she? That felt ridiculous.

"We're trying to get out of the Wyld, silly," Hope said. "There's a shortcut, but we have to go through a breach created by the Thought of Ea Gso, and to do that, we have to get the Craven Emperor to let us pass."

The names left Faith feeling disoriented all over again. "So this Ea Gso opened a breach into Creation from here--"

""The _Thought_ of Ea Gso," Charity insisted. "And yes, it's got to be finished by now."

"Why's the Emperor a coward?" Faith asked. "And if he's so yellow, why open a breach to Creation? Why work with Ea Gso's Thought at all?" She paused. There was something weird about that name.

"Don't try to figure out the Unshaped," Hope warned. "They're insane even as raksha measure things."

Faith sighed. "So what're these things supposed to let me do?"

"The Wyld doesn't have any shape of its own. Someone puts it here. Humans usually can't do it consciously. Now you can." Hope pointed behind Faith, who turned to see a herd of unicorns galloping by. She flinched. "That made you react."

"Well, yeah." Faith pulled out the spear in case the things tried to close in on her.

"Everything reacts to something," Charity said "Raksha play games with the images to see how much they can make the others react."

"I don't think I get it," Faith said, settling onto the ground. "Maybe I'm just a dumbass."

"Charity," Hope asked, "have you ever met a dumb Solar?"

Charity shook her head. "I think they exist, but they usually don't live long. She might be part ass, though. Faith, it's a game. Human children pretend they're Exalted heroes--or Anathema--and play-fight. They don't have real swords--perhaps sticks or toys. They don't wear royal robes or armor. But the stronger, faster child still wins." Suddenly Charity wore a suit of plate armor and held a mace. "Defend yourself!"

Faith leapt up and to the side. At first she thought to roll, but that wasn't going to work. Instead she spun on her front legs in a maneuver she was sure would never work for any horse and lashed out with her back hooves, sending Charity flying.

A wave of exhaustion washed over Faith. Suddenly she desperately wanted nothing more than to curl up and sleep. In the middle of a fight? That was crazy! They were doing something to her. Faith snarled and whirled to punch her other sister in the gut, shaking off the tiredness as if it'd never been there.

By the time she got back around, Charity was back on her feet with an army behind her, a horde of gibbering things that looked half ape and half lizard. She'd just conjured them from nowhere. Oh. Oh!

Faith clenched her jaw. The scene shifted; it shifted because she had forced it to.

A screen of bent cardboard sat in front of her. She was her normal, human self, folded into a folding chair. A map lay on the table in front of the screen, with little tokens in place.

"This is lame," Hope grumbled. "An army just pops out of nowhere?"

Charity shook her head firmly. "It was behind the ridge," she insisted. "It...Don't any guys ever play this game? It'd be a lot more fun with guys." That was a slight alteration, but Faith was proud of it.

"Boys don't have the imagination for D&D," Faith said coolly, though inside she was fighting not to smirk. "They just wave their swords around."

Hope sighed and put her head in her hands. "I wouldn't mind a boy waving his...sword at me."

"You are all of fifteen, missy!" Charity snapped before looking startled at the words. "It is _not_ like this," she insisted. "We're better than those boring b...Creation-born. The stories we tell are real!"

"Realer than this," Faith admitted. "But not as real as us. Right?"

"Would you play a game that could really kill you?" Hope asked.

"Me? Maybe," Faith said. "Not everybody. But life's not a game. Plus being out here's gonna kill me if I don't get some food and sleep."

Hope leaned toward Charity and the two whispered together for a moment. "Get some rest," Hope said. "We'll look out for you. We need you...you're our sister."

*****

Faith wasn't sure how real the fruit they fed her was, but it filled her stomach and didn't shrink her or turn her into a shoe or anything. If anything, it seemed a little tastier than usual, which in retrospect should have warned her that being a centaur was realer than the human-again fantasy she'd conjured up last night. She didn't sleep very well and woke up to find her human half laid on a pile of itchy leaves that at least propped her up a little.

"I shouldn't be here," she grumbled to Charity, who seemed a lot better rested. "I'm not enough Solar to make it out here."

Charity scoffed at her. "You may have come too early, but Solars rise to the challenge in front of them. I heard a tale once that one who'd only been Exalted four years routed the Primordial Oramus in single combat. Besides, you're more than a Solar now. I could open you up a feeding Grace and technically, you'd be one of us."

"Why haven't you?" Faith felt a cold shiver of suspicion. "We're sisters, aren't we?"

"You're an Exalt," Hope said. "It...isn't done. It's risky enough giving you Graces. Most Exalts who can do these things are Lunars who killed us snd made Graces themselves."

Faith growled under her breath. "Nobody's killing my sisters."

"Good," Charity said, "because we're ready to go. Your scene could have used more emotional resonance, but it showed some raw talent."

"How do we get back in?" Faith looked around. "That other unshaped--if it was a different one--didn't want to let me in."

"Oh, the unshaped are either bored by or terrified of Creation-born," Charity said. "It might have been the Craven Emperor or it might not have, but you're with us and you have your own Graces now. The Emperor will let us in together. There."

A squat circular tower rose from the next hill, surrounded by a field of bloodred roses. Faith strode toward it, buoyed by the resounding song that seemed to emanate from the flowers, and her sisters followed. The scent was the song, and together their heady music nearly overpowered her.

Set into the base of the tower was a wooden door bearing a brass nameplate. It read simply, "The Gunslinger". Faith put her hand to the knob, and it swung open.

She stepped gingerly through the door into a city of skyscrapers. For a moment she wondered if she were back on Earth, but she knew of nowhere on Earth where skyscrapers were tangled in vines and coated in rust as high as she could see. It wasn't LA, she knew that much, and it wasn't Boston.

"You know this place," Charity said. It wasn't a question. Hope nodded.

Faith forced herself to ignore the graffiti--"Pubes rule"?--that covered every surface. Way over the skyline she saw a familiar spire. The Empire State Building? She searched for the Twin Towers but couldn't find them. Still... "New York City? Never been here, but pictures...some places're always on the news."

A throbbing, bone-deep rhythm of drums rose from somewhere deep below. "Sounds familiar," Faith said, "but I can't place it. I...." A buzzing followed it, a sound that grew to a roar, voices, voices in the millions raised in fear. "Fuck. If all those people are gonna attack us--"

"Faith. Think. Everything that happens here is part of the game." Hope patted her on the flank. "It can only hurt us if we let it. We can't just will the problem away, though. We have to meet it on its own terms. Run!"

Instead of following orders at once, Faith grabbed each of her sisters by an arm and flung them astride her before breaking into a gallop. Mist, green and low-hanging, began to roll out of some of the manhole covers as she raced by. "Poison gas," Charity warned. "Don't breathe it. Don't even let it touch you."

Faith knew that much. "How do we avoid it?"

"I'm working on that," Hope said. "It's my task to solve. We made the challenge while you were sleeping."

"What else didn't you tell me?" Faith grumbled. "I would've thought I should know this kind of thing. Yeah?"

"If you say so," her little sister said, wrinkling up her nose. "I'll try not to keep anything else from you." The pounding of the drums reverberated through Faith's bones.

"Can you just conjure up stuff? Like protective suits?" That sounded like the easiest way out.

"If we're too gauche about it," Charity warned, clinging tighter as Faith leapt over a pile of rubble, "the Emperor will make the next tests harder. We don't want that."

"At base it's a good idea, though. Where would we find suits in a plaxe like this?" Hope began to look around.

"Some kind of bunker," Faith said nervously, picking up the pace. "In fact if we find a bunker we won't need the suits for a bit." She galloped up onto an ancient wreck of a car.

"Police station!" Hope called out. "The pokice guard might have one."

The station itself was a burnt-out shell, but in fact there was a trapdoor behind the desk. With effort and a little luck, Faith managed to jimmy the lock. "Airtight," Hope said. Getting Faith through the trapdoor was difficult, but it had clearly been intended for several men to pass through at once in emergencies. The big problem, instead, was getting her down the ladder. Streamers of gas were crawling along the station floor when they finally got Faith inside and closed the door.

"Now," Faith wondered, "how long do we wait here?"

"Maybe not at all," Charity mused, twirling her hand through her hair. "I would expect this to segue into another scene."

"We're in a closed-off space," Faith argued. "Unless someone opens that door and we go out, how would there be another scene?"

Charity squinted at the carpeting. "Dig a little deeper." She reavched down and took hold of a barely-visible seam, tearing a segment from the floor and revealing a second trap door as big as the first.

"A bunker in a bunker?" Faith bent way down to open the door, which revealed not a second bunker level but only a hole burrowed into soil. "I don't like the look--" Without warning her hooves were suddenly scrabbling on loose dirt as the bunker floor cracked and shuddered. Hope shrieked and tumbled past her. At the last moment Faith seized her by the hair. She screamed again, only partly from pain; Faith's traction failed and she went sliding into the abyss.

Moments later Charity came rushing down beside them, which even Faith knew wasn't how falling worked. "You wanted to know," she said. "Now you know."

Faith shrugged. None of this made sense...which made a kind of sense of its own; they were in the Wyld, after all. By this time they were plummeting past a dizzying array of alcoves and shelves that held various bottles and jars, paintings and sculptures. How anyone was supposed to use them she had no idea, unless they could fly. She had that option, of course, but there was no point in going back.

Hope plucked a can of soda from one of the shelves. "How does this open?"

Faith popped it for her, examining the unfamiliar zigzag brand logo. "Nozz-a-la", the stuff was called. Um...yeah. "Drink fast," she called, pointing at the pile of brush coming up rapidly beneath them. Hope was still scowling at the taste when they hit bottom, sending the stuff spraying everywhere.

Despite the continued awkwardness of her shape, Faith trampled through the brush and was free of it before the others. The alcove they were in was only the beginning of a long hall full of doorways. "Shit," Faith muttered. "I know this one too. He's reading my mind."

"He's conforming himself to your expectations," Charity agreed. "He knows your memories better than you do. Otherwise, how would he oppose you?"

When Faith glanced back down the hall, there was a glass table, just as she expected, with a key and a little glass bottle. "Come on,"" she grumbled, "we've got to drink that stuff so we can fit through the tiny little door into the garden." Hooves clattering, she made her way down the hall.

"There's not very much of it," Hope observed as Faith picked up the bottle and downed it. It would refill itself. Or something. She set the bottle on the table and reached for the key, only to miss. Her arms were shrinking. Worse, she felt inexplicably muddled. "Faith!" Hope called. "Charity, look around!"

Faith's torso was stretching forward but compressing to the sides. Her mouth and nose cracked and cracked again, stretching out into some sort of muzzle. She could barely feel her fingers.

Something foul was crammed into her mouth, and hands held it shut. Unable to rid herself of the disgusting stuff any other way, Faith chewed and swallowed it. No sooner had she done so than her head began to clear. Her arms had shrunk away almost to nothing, and her trunk had shifted into a horse's neck; now she was changing back just as rapidly.

"It didn't work the way you thought," Hope said. "It shrank your humanity. We nearly lost you."

"Holy crap! You mean I nearly turned into a horse?" Faith grew red as they nodded and handed her her bra. Her shirt was ruined, but the Grace, attuned to her, hadn't been damaged.

She was nothing but a goddamn liability out here and she was going to get them all killed. She was a walking disaster even when she thought she knew the way. Blood boiling, she lashed out with her hind legs, demolishing the door be...hind...."Hey. Alice never got through any of these doors." 

Charity shrugged at her. "Take a look, then."

The room behind the door was full of aromatic smoke. "Hey! 'Scuse me?"

"Why should I do so?" drifted toward her on white fumes. "You have destroyed my door and my privacy. I will not excuse you."

"Well...can I make it up to ya?" Faith wondered, stepping carefully closer. Someone in there was smoking some good shit; she felt a strong buzz just from his secondhand.

"'Make it up to me'?", the smoker chuckled. "And how would you do that?" He reared up into view, an inmense multi-legged grub creature with clacking mouthparts. The caterpillar. Of course.

"I, ah...." Inspiration struck. "I got some way better shit." She began to reach for her pockets, but of course she didn't have any. "In my stash," she said, turning and beckoning to Charity. Charity stared blankly at her. "The stash I gave you."

Hope pulled a pouch from her purse. "You gave it to me," she said, passing it forward with a wink.

Faith rolled her eyes. "Delinquent."

"Following in your footsteps."

Faith held up the leather baggie and pulled out dried, shredded leaves. She didn't know--no. She'd harvested these from the clearing where the monk had told her off. They'd been weird mushroom things, only with leaves. In reality she hadn't done any such thing, but she _wasn't_ in reality, and better to know than not know, right? "Take a hit."

The caterpillar eyed the stuff doubtfully before dropping it into his bong. Great gouts of smoke rolled out, and he took a deep hit. His eyes rolled back in his head. "This is indeed delightful. You are forgiven. Take some for yourself." He offered her a smoke.

"Um...maybe it might be a little strong?" She wasn't sure what wild Wyld shrooms might do to her.

"I insist," the caterpillar said, scowling at her. It shoved the pipe into her hands.

This could be bad, real bad. No. She had made the stuff. It would be a good trip, a mind-blowing high but not a dangerous one. She lifted the pipe to her lips and sucked in the smoke.

The hit fractured her consciousness and split her wide open. She could see all the way down to the atoms. Only they weren't atoms, not here. Everything was made of tiny dancing motes of color and light, and they weren't arranged in anything so simple as that. They were in delicate filigree patterns like lace that flowed and shifted.

"Faith?" Charity asked nervously.

"I might be a little high," Faith said carefully. Her words wanted to turn into something else. Flowers maybe. She remembered some story where people's thoughts were manifesting and someone had wanted to give them a tranquilizer but the warning label had said it caused bizarre ideation and that would have been bad. Words were not birds. Or shouldn't be at least. It felt as if there were a lot more words than normal flying around in her skull.

The caterpillar reeled back and toppled off his mushroom. "I think you put him under the table," Hope said innocently.

Faith struggled to focus on the situation. She thought she had won this one, but her head was a vortex of thought and imagery that was threatening to pop off her shoulders and turn into a hurricane. That thought alone seemed to cause the room to start spinning wildly, accelerating till Hope and Charity had to grab onto her arms. The inert caterpillar went rolling off into the distance while the room bucked and swayed, rising, but somehow Faith stayed put at the center of things.

The spinning slowed. The room dropped. Faith's stomach rose into her throat with a lurch. Then, with a metal-rending crash, they slammed back into the ground. Shrieks rose from outside. "Who'd we land on?" Hope wanted to know. Somehow she didn't sound as sympathetic as she should.

"A witch, with any luck." Faith had caught on by now. "Welcome to Oz."

There was no pair of feet under the room when Faith went outside, though. There was a broken white wall of china, with shattered shards lying all over the china floor on one side of it and the grass on the other. That was all, for long minutes. Then people began to peer out from behind little china trees and bushes. At least, they looked like people, though they were no more than knee high and made of porcelain painted in all colors.

"I don't remember this in the movie," Faith said. Had she read the book, or could the Unshaped somehow conjure up what it had been about? It didn't matter, she decided. "Hey. Not gonna hurt you. Just let me get on through and outta here."

Instead of making way, the china people began to sob. Faith scratched her head. What was the matter?

"The wall," Charity pointed out. "It kept them safe. Now anyone can turn up and break them, or carry them off for decorations."

"I'm not sure how much longer I can afford to stay out here," Faith worried. "I might not even be getting real food."

"Then we should be quick about it," Charity said, "but it's unfitting for beings of our station to cause such damage and leave our victims to it."

Faith sighed. "Anyone got some glue?"

A clown in a purple suit strolled up to her fearlessly, his body crazed with mended cracks. His mouth in particular had been cracked open, then pasted and repainted like a wide red grin.

"My lady fair,  
Don't stand and stare  
At poor old Mister Joker.

In palace green  
We'll find the queen  
And paste with which to caulk her."

"That wasn't much of a rhyme," Faith said with a groan. "Where's the palace?"

"Three days across the plateau," a milkmaid with a nick in her elbow said. "You must come with us to the Green Porcelain Palace and get the paste we need."

"Three days?" Faith put a hand to her face. "And then how long to fix the wall?"

"Could be weeks," said a farmer. "But you have to. We'll all be shattered to bits!"

Faith turned and studied the broken wall. Its edges went right up to the shattered metal room on both sides. She poked her head inside. There was only the one door leading out. She backed out. "Charity," she said, interrupting her sister as she spoke to Mr. Joker. "That wall ain't half the protection they think it is. If anything our room's the strongest spot in it. We can't stay here as long as they want or we'll never leave."

Charity narrowed her eyes at Faith. "You're saying you won't help people who need us because we endangered them?"

"I'm sayin' it was the Emperor who endangered them, not us. I'm sayin' I'm not sure they even really exist. And I'm sayin' we can't last out here long enough to do the job they want." Faith turned to Mr. Joker. "You don't look afraid of much. Can you work metal?"

The clown cocked his head at her. "A bit. 'Tis not often called for."

"It's called for now. I'll help you weld this into a proper wall section. After that I suggest ya trade for more metal ta reinforce your wall." Faith compared him mentally to the height of the wall. "It's a pretty big job. But I know you can do it. You just hafta buckle down and get to work."

Getting the china people working was a matter of a few hours, but it wasn't days before they could leave. In fact, by the time Faith set off along the wall, they had the beginning of a scaffold in place and Mr. Joker was hard at work welding the gaps in the metal

"I just hope they're real enough to still be there," she muttered to herself as she trotted away. In this direction the wall seemed to extend endlessly out to the horizon and beyond.

"You took my spot," Charity complained. "I was supposed to solve that one." Faith started to protest. "There's an order to these quests. Upset the order and you upset the Unshaped. Don't you see that?"

"I saw you about to trap us there," Faith countered. "I thought you didn't like games that could get you killed." Faith scowled at the infinite expanse of wall. Something was wrong here.

"You wouldn't have died, Faith, you're a Solar--" Faith came to a halt. The wall...plain white china, unpainted, unmarked...it was a trick of perspective. Faith closed her eyes and cantered sideways until she should have struck the wall.

She opened them. Faith stood a foot past a gap in the wall with Hope and Charity staring at her. "This way," she urged. Where'd she seen this trick? "He's scamming us," she insisted. "We can go straight to him. Don't waste time wandering around, c'mon!"

Her sisters followed, talking nervously to each other. Faith couldn't help wondering if it was their doubts that turned the simple maze of walls into a jumbled mass of staircases in under twenty feet. Sure, the stairs had happened in the movie, but a lot later--not to mention they were hard to navigate with four legs and hooves. She managed, with a little extra energy burned.

It was Jareth all right--or the real David Bowie, who she was pretty sure looked a lot older now. Jareth was leaning idly against a short section of brick wall, looking bored. "Everything that you wanted I have done. You cowered before me, I was frightening. I have reordered time. I have turned the world upside down, and I have done it all for _you_! I am exhausted from living up to your expectations." He didn't sound exhausted. He sounded bored too, reciting lines memorized ages ago. That was all so wrong. Jareth had been the one to prove to her she was bi; he shouldn't look as haggard as this. "I ask for so little. Just fear me, love me, do as I ask, and I shall be your slave."

"Through dangers untold," Faith recited, "and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here to the castle, beyond the goblin city. My will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom as great." She left out the part about the child, just as he had. There was no kid here. "You have no power over me!"

Jareth studied her for a long moment. Then slowly, softly, he began to laugh, building to a crescendo. "You really believe that this is about reciting words. You think that because you claim power you must have it. Foolish baby Solar."

"Well," Faith began haltingly, "so the hell what? It's still true, isn't it? I fought my way--"

Jareth seized her by the throat. "You 'fought your way through dangers untold'? Bah. Your 'sisters' led you here by the nose. I marked you because the prophecy of the Herald spoke of it, and because it amused me."

"Marked?" Faith managed to squeak out. Jareth dragged her down closer and kissed her full on the lips, loosing a wave of lust--no! Hell no! She reached up and jammed her thumbs into his eyes, and he backed off, still laughing.

"Marked, I say," he sneered. "Would you have feared to desire me before you entered my realm? Do not be a fool--I see your heart. You'd have bedded me a dozen times over for gain or satisfaction, save that I filled you with mortal terror at the prospect."

Mortal terror was no exaggeration. Faith's heart was pounding like a jackhammer. Hell, she still wanted him even after what he'd done to her. But that would reduce her to an animal, wouldn't it?

"I'm sorry we didn't tell you about the prophecy," Hope said quietly. "We weren't allowed, and anyway all we know is that it exists." Little sister or no, Faith wanted to shove her off the stairway into space.

Instead she glared at Jareth. "What's this prophecy thing?"

Jareth shrugged, a mockery of helplessness on his face. "You don't know? Perhaps you're not even the Herald. You've come all this way, lost your humanity, lost control of your own instincts, and all for nothing. Go or stay. Even a Solar won't last a month out here in the true Wyld, the purity of existence."

How? How was she supposed to know a prophecy she'd never heard? That had only even been mentioned to here moments ago? She couldn't--

Faith glanced back to catch Charity's eye. "From out of chaos will come a Creation-born who wasn't born in Creation. She'll be both Exalted and raksha, and she'll face the Craven Emperor on his own ground and back him off. She and her sisters will pass through the portal and open the way into the world of shape. Then--"

"--that done," Jareth concluded, "the armies of the Emperor shall pass through bringing conquest in their wake." He smiled indulgently. "And here I thought you didn't know it at all. But I see you aren't quite ready."

"Huh?"

"You are not yet quite raksha," the Emperor said, "for you cannot yet feed. Come here." He beckoned her forward.

Faith glanced uneasily at her sisters, but they waved her urgently forward. With a bit of a shrug, she cantered up to Jareth. "Do what you're gonna do."

Jareth pulled her close again. "It is you who must now kiss me, little Solar. If you are not too afraid."

Fury boiled up behind Faith's eyes, and she clamped her mouth onto his, biting his lip till she drew blood. When at last she pulled away, her flanks quivering, only part of the fire was still anger, and the harness thing that had been put on her had vanished like smoke, leaving her wearing only her bra.

"There we go," the Emperor said. "Isn't that better? I've opened your Cup Grace, commoner Solar. Even a minion would be considered one of us now. Perhaps you'll be a big girl one day." He gestured beyond him into the void between floating stairways. Something shimmered there that had been invisible before. "The way is clear."

Faith beckoned impatiently to Hope and Charity. "Get on my back. I'm gonna jump."

They glanced at each other and nodded--not to her--before Charity boosted Hope onto Faith's back, then climbed up herself. "How'd you know the prophecy? I thought we'd failed completely."

Faith winked at her. "I remembered all of a sudden, everything here's made up. Castles, clothes...prophecies...So I bullshitted him. It was my prophecy, an' I made it." Hope opened her mouth as if to protest. "It was what he wanted. I had to prove I knew what I was doing."

Ignoring any further questions, Faith sidled backwards a few feet, then burst forward at full tilt. She reached the edge of a landing and leapt into the air. The shimmer became a burst of blue-white light that gobbled her down, and at once she was falling...falling....

Faith crashed down into the rubble on all four hooves and nearly went sprawling anyway before staggering to her feet. The extra weight one her back from her sisters left it aching. She stared around at the vacant lot, then up at a tower of scaffolding. She hadn't jumped from there--but she could have.

"What do you know?" She knew that voice, that was for sure. "Back in Sunnydale, _F_? That was dumb."

She was. Faith was back in Sunnydale. It was madness, but there she was. "I do a lot of dumb things, _B_. Getting lost's one of 'em. You can bet this is the last place I meant to come."

How was she back on Earth? How was Buffy here? She didn't have time to find answers.

Buffy lifted a gun and fired.


	5. Childlike Empress

The docks of Gullwing were busy, as always. Tiny fishing boats skimmed in and out along the sandy beaches; larger vessels stood berthed in the docks proper, goods pouring in or out. None of that was call for attention, and yet the townspeople stood staring. The longest pier held a ship of metal with no visible sails, and far out in the bay there could be seen a thing of domes and towers, like a city come swimming out of the Wyld. The metal ship swarmed with Dragonblooded of all aspects, and whispers were rising that the Realm had fallen and been replaced. Yet beastmen also thronged the deck, working at strange tasks and even venturing sometimes into the town, where merchants served sharkmen and octopus-women fearfully and prayed for their departure.

The Feathered One was to arrive in town today to meet with these incomprehensible strangers. If they were indeed Dynasts, at least they were unlikely to make impossible demands. If they were something new...well, the people would cross that strait when they came to it.

Conch-trumpets sounded, and the bustle quieted. A wooden vessel nearly as large as the metal one surged into view around the great knee of the island, festooned with brilliant feathered banners that stretched between its masts, fluttering between the sails. Rowers deployed oars from the sides and took over as the sails were furled, guiding the ruler's ship into port beside the strangers' vessel.

No sooner had the great ship berthed than an entourage of priestesses and warriors emerged from belowdecks, surrounding the Feathered One himself, his cloak spread in majesty and billowing in the wind. The priestesses disembarked first, of course. They were under the volcano gods' protection, but there was no point antagonizing the storm mothers.

The Feathered One had only just reached the pier when a great bronze door slid open on the metal ship, and from it emerged shining figures whose splendor made his look feeble. First among them came a slender young woman with a silver ring on her brow. Silver tattoos curled gleaming down her pale pink cheeks. The circlet she wore was little more than a shimmering band around her forehead to hold her hair back, but her clothing made up for it in finery, a billowing silk blouse in blue just translucent enough that more tattoos shone through it and pants loose enough to be mistaken for a skirt at first glance. On her chest rested a spiral silver amulet with a gemstone set in the middle.

At her side stood a young black-haired man, just as pale, in golden armor fashioned on the scales of a snake. A bright disc yellow as the sun glowed on his own forehead. His voice boomed out suddenly, echoing over the bay. "I am Admiral Alexander Harris of Luthe, known to some as the Dread Pirate Roberts, escorting the Queen of Luthe, Winifred Burkle! We have come to call upon Wavecrest for aid against the forces of Skullstone and the Silver Prince! In exchange we offer you our blessing of knowledge and power. We are prepared to open negotiations with the Feathered One at a location of his choosing."

Beyond those two stood more Anathema at least as strange. Behind the Queen stood a young woman in an elaborately floral dress and hair that flowed freely down below her knees; she held the hand of an aged figure swathed in green and black silks that hid her withered form. The Anathema were said to age slowly if at all; was the hidden figure some secret master from the Age of Nightmares? Beside the ancient one stood a golden woman who bore a curious resemblance to the girl in the flowers, but who bore a gemstone on her forehead, and then a slender woman in tight black with red trim and sash, whose skin and hair were white like seafoam. And still more--a pale blue woman with crystals for hair; a young man clad in furs.

By the Dragons! So many Anathema at once might overwhelm a whole legion, with ill luck and their great power. The Feathered One's cape swirled as he stepped forward. Perhaps he saw the inevitable coming; he strode up to the Anathema and bowed. Together with the demons, he vanished into the ship.

A wail of horror rose up from the town as everyone who could see what had happened cried out in despair. Perhaps the gods might still save him. Perhaps.

**Chapter 62--Childlike Empress**

Faith flung up her dagger, and the bullet ricocheted off it like Wonder Woman's bracelets.

This _couldn't_ be Sunnydale. It couldn't. It made no sense. Even if she'd gone the wrong way--whatever that meant in the Wyld--Buffy wouldn't use a gun except maybe if a slay depended on it. "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm SubMachine Gun," the spitting image of Buffy replied. "And you're sure as hell not Erectile Dysfunction."

Faith's jaw dropped and she nearly missed deflecting the next shot. What kind of names were those? _Erectile Dysfunction_? She spun around and gave the fake Buffy a Solar-powered horse kick in the face.

She came back around to find Buff-- _SubMachine Gun_ flat on her back. "You're not her and this isn't Sunnydale."

"We're in the Middlemarches," Charity said. "It's progress."

"This the Thought of Ea Gso?" Faith shrugged dismissively. "Not a very deep thinker."

"Can't be," Hope demurred. "The stories say she's shaped now. Besides, we'd feel her attention. Maybe this belongs to her, though."

"How come it looks like Sunnydale? Did I do that?"

Charity scowled. "If you had done it consciously you'd know, and you can't have done it unconsciously here. I'm not sure what's going on."

"We have to be in a freehold," Hope insisted. "We came through the breakthrough."

"Yes," Charity agreed. "But where is the freehold and why does it look like a city in another world?"

"Pssh. Call this a city? You forget Boston already?" Faith knelt down. "SubMachine Gun's waking up. Hey, you! NRA Buffy! Get on your feet!"

SMG groaned in protest as Faith hauled her to her feet. "Anyone get the number of that truck?"

"All that hit you was my rear hooves," Faith said bluntly. God that was surreal! "And only cuz you were shooting at me. Where the hell are we?"

"Sunnydale," SMG insisted. "Where else would I be?"

"Well," Faith began, "if you were Buffy, you'd be in Creation, either in Luthe, which is some kinda city-ship, or in Gem. Where she's a freaking queen or something." It didn't make sense being jealous. Buffy probably hated it--the responsibility part anyway--and Faith didn't have any right or business ruling anything, no matter how Exalted did things in Creation. She was a criminal. Besides, she'd fuck it up.

"But I'm not Buffy. I'm SubMachine Gun." The simulacrum of Buffy rolled her eyes at Faith.

"She's a raksha," Charity said. "And...I think she's the general here. If we knew where anything was--"

"What do we need to know?" Faith asked.

"Any of the freehold's key locations," Hope explained. "Every freehold has an arcane redoubt. Most also have one or more other places: a glory, a stronghold, a throne room, a fountainhead, and a beacon. They each have certain--"

Bolts of lightning sizzled down from a sky suddenly full of thunderheads. SMG winked at Faith. "Looks like Alternate History's found you. Better run."

*****

The Feathered One knew better than to stare. It was true that Wavecrest lacked the magics and tools of the Realm...or of these people, whoever they were...but it was unseemly to come across as some backwards yokel. It didn't help. Luthe was a city of spires and domes that shone like blue glass in the burning light of the sun. Dragon-Blooded and beastmen thronged its corridors, though not without harsh or cool glances at one another. He couldn't avoid staring.

"You are Tya?" he asked Queen Winifred, who only looked startled. He indicated her tattoos. The Denzik city-ship didn't seem to attract storm mothers, but it might be mystically-protected in another way--or it might just be a matter of size.

"I'm a Lunar. The tattoos are magic." She grinned broadly at him with her pretty, open smile. She had a friendly, guileless face, but the Feathered One knew better than to trust that in an Anathema. "I thought maybe you weren't going to talk any more till we got to the negotiating table."

"I merely thought it best to consider my words," he explained. "The tales say that the Anathema can carry away a mind with a smile and a sentence."

"I maybe could," the Queen said as she led him into a wide open space surrounded by crystal spires. "But I wouldn't." There amidst them was a table laden with food, and a young woman with close-cropped hair wearing tight black leather pants and a black leather jacket. She too turned to smile broadly at him, though the effect was marred slightly by the fried shrimp she was eating by the handful and the thick chain that ran from pierced nose to pierced ear.

Wait. Her face was the face of the Anathema in the flower dress. She had remained in that through the boat ride. Perhaps she could have changed so quickly, but to have shorn her hair and pierced her face with such speed? She raised a hand and waved at him shyly. "Hi. I'm Tara. Just experimenting a bit."

"He doesn't know you, silly," the Anathema queen snickered. "I'm not sure this look is you. You can't look ugly but it's kinda jarring."

"I was afraid of that," Tara said with a nod. "Shrimp is delicious, though!"

"You have no trouble with storm mothers?" the Feathered One queried Winifred.

"The first couple of tries did nothing," Tara interrupted. "So they sent in a group and we beat their wrinkly butts down. They haven't been very bothery since then."

The Feathered One tried not to reveal his shock as the Queen added, "We don't have to worry about storm mothers. Or volcanoes. Or food or much of anything. We could help you with that if it's a problem."

"With what exactly?" the Feathered One asked warily.

"Anything," the Queen replied.

Admiral Alexander strolled in, casual and yet instantly the focus of all eyes. "Sorry," he said. "Someone wanted to meet you."

Another woman--a spirit of some sort?--accreted from the air. She was tall and slender and had light brown hair and a petulant mouth; she was wearing absurdly skimpy armor of shiny metal that seemed designed for showing off her body rather than protection. She was perhaps eighteen or nineteen, if appearances were not deceiving him.

"This is Dawn Summers, my latest consort," the admiral said. "She's a raksha, so don't be fooled. She's a few thousand years old."

The Feathered One jumped. "A raksha?" The old tales spoke of Anathema taking demons and gods as consorts...but raksha? If there were tales about that he hadn't heard them. "Isn't she dangerous?"

"Lots of things are dangerous," the admiral said. "You're the ruler of a nation; I'd say you're pretty dangerous yourself. Dawn's a friend."

The Feathered One nodded. What else was there to do? "If you truly wish to help us, Hamoji has become restless of late. Our sacrifices are not satisfactory to him and the jails are almost empty."

"Hamoji's the volcano, right?" The Queen wanted to know.

"He is, yes."

"Tara, why don't you go meet with him? See what it is he actually wants. Don't forget that if he actually attacks you your powers won't stop it." Tara's eyes went wide, but she smiled anyway. Maybe she was foolish enough to actually want to speak to the volcano deity.

She was welcome to him.

*****

"This Alternate History must be the freehold's master!" Hope shouted in Faith's ear. Faith was carrying her sisters at a dead gallop, but the bolts of lightning pursued her wherever she went. "She can see us no matter where we go!"

"Then we leave!" Faith yelled back. That was easier said than done, though. This Sunnydale wasn't laid out like the real one; in fact, Faith was starting to think the buildings changed places as she ran past them. As if that wasn't bad enough, demons were coming out of the houses and storefronts.

"I think there's only two exits," Charity hollered. "And I don't think going back is a good idea! Why are they attacking us?"

"They seem to be focused on me," Faith suggested. "Maybe we should split up and you guys can look."

"We've never been here," Charity reminded her. "Can you think of anywhere there'd be a fire kept burning?"

"A fire?" Faith glanced around. "Not here. Unless it was somebody's fireplace, and nobody does that here." She paused. What were fires good for? Heat. Not in So Cal. But.... "The lights never go off in the Bronze."

"Worth a try," Hope said. "They're not very imaginative. They're still using the lightning thing."

"Not very imaginative?" Willow faded into being in front of them from thin air. "I thought you all knew me better. Especially you, Faith. But what do I expect? You don't know _anything_. You're just this cleavagy slutbomb walking around going, 'Oooh, check me out--'"

"I'm what?" Faith felt a shivery feeling run down her spine and came within a hair of punching the fake Willow in the face. Only, in a place like this maybe that'd be playing her game. "Listen up, Red, you can play repressed all you like, but I know 'em when I see 'em. Or when I hear 'em babble on about gettin' spanked. What else is it you like? I bet there's more. Go on, tell me."

Sure enough, "Willow" blinked and stammered out, "Well there was this one t-time at band camp--"

"Ha!" Faith seized her by the wrists. "We'll have time for you to tell me all about it." At which point not-Willow promptly vanished from her grip. "The hell!" Angry demons surged toward them.

"That was okay," Charity said. "But you can do better. You keep trying to talk people into doing stuff. Just comment and imagine, like she did."

"Like she what?" Faith had to lash out, kicking demons in the head, which wasn't exactly easy with two people on her back.

"She tried to make you a...'cleavagy slutbomb'," Hope explained. "You resisted her, which is really good against the master of the freehold, but then you are a Solar."

"She could do that?" Some kind of spider demon pounced on Faith, forcing her to be silent while she struggled for a proper grip.

"I could do that," Charity explained tiredly. "You could do that. Don't make them do; just make them _be_."

Faith slammed the spider into a brick building. "Got it. Hey! I think I know where the exit is. We need to get inside the high school!"

"A school is the exit?" Hope frowned doubtfully.

" _Inside_ the school," Faith repeated. "We gotta reach the hellmouth."

*****

"What are they plotting?" Mnemon Dithrem growled under his breath. "Why would he agree to meet with these Anathema unless he means to betray the Realm?"

"That's a good question, satrap," V'neef Tetra said noncommittally. "But no one even knew there were Anathema in the city until he made landfall here. They saw only Dragon-Blooded." For an Immaculate monk, she was annoyingly peaceful and tolerant of heretics. "No doubt he went with them out of fear. If they enthrall him, I can break him away once he returns."

"A more pressing question," Captain Buruku said, "is what's to be done with the beastmen." Of _course_ the god-blood would overlook Anathema! "No doubt they come from deeper in the Wyld. The people all know they pose a threat; you can see it in their eyes."

"The beastmen are dangerous," Tetra admitted, "but they have broken no laws. If they do, we can easily send them back into the Wyld--and up Hamoji's slopes."

Grumbling under his breath, Dithrem rose to pace around the hut that passed for a satrap's palace here. "To honor this god with their heathen rites?"

Tetra had the nerve to raise an eyebrow at that. "As Chosen of the Dragons, is it not my right to treat with the gods? Let the mortals see me solve their problems where their efforts have failed. We can set calendar dates and proper rites once we have their allegiance."

Buruku laughed. "A surprisingly practical attitude, Immaculate. You may have a point."

"Hamoji is your father!" Dithrem growled. "Of course you favor him!"

"My father has many children," the commodore said coolly. "He bears me no special love, nor I him. I merely seek the end of wildfires and lava flowing into the fields and forests."

Dithrem opened his mouth before realizing he couldn't recall the objection he'd been going to make. "Sometimes one has to put aside absolute principle," Tetra said, "and try to build slowly toward the right."

Burku nodded in agreement. "My father means well, at least when he's in a good mood. But sometimes I wonder if the Immaculate faith wouldn't be effective in leashing his temper on the bad days. If we could threaten to withhold worship when he's wrathful, instead of appeasing him and encouraging future rages...."

Dithrem began, "That is not how the Immaculate faith works--" only to discover he'd forgotten the rest of his explanation. His eyes narrowed at Buruku. "I can't recall what I was going to say," he muttered. "It's been like that a great deal for the last two days."

"Of course it has," V'neef Tetra said calmly. "I'm secretly an unknown type of Anathema stealing your thoughts before you can speak them."

Dithrem looked at Buruku. Buruku looked at Dithrem. The pair of them burst into laughter together. "It's the stress," Dithrem said. "It's making me paranoid. My apologies, Immaculate."

"Just call me Tetra," she said, smiling.

*****

"Is this what a school looks like?" Hope drooped in her seat, and Charity, bruised and bleeding, had to hold her up. The demons never let up for long.

"Nope," Faith grumbled. "This is the 'Magic Box'. Not sure what it's got to do with us or anything."

"A store that sells magic?" Hope perked up enough to rush inside.

"Catch her," Charity said weakly, and stumbled toward the door.

Faith sighed and slammed the door open. "This isn't where--"

"Hiya! You must be this Faith person I keep hearing about. Welcome to my store! I'm Entertaining Comics and I'll be happy to hide you three as long as you give me money!" EC pulled Hope into an office chair. "Are you really a Solar? Because I have to admit I was a demon once and--"

Faith tilted her head at the imitation Anya. She didn't know the woman that well, but this seemed over the top. "And now you're a cleavagy slutbomb, I know." She had to try it out. Just once.

EC paused and glanced down at herself. "Everyone says that but really I just know what I want: money and orgasms. And I don't see why that's such a problem when there's so little time to get either, you know?"

Charity frowned at Hope; Hope shrugged back. Both of them shrugged in turn at Faith. They didn't know Anya either. It must not be--

EC's blouse was coming unbuttoned. One by one the buttons popped open, working down from her neck and exposing the upper curves of her breasts. Faith grinned appreciatively. "Score!"

"Oh come on! I'm having a wardrobe malfunction. This absolutely does not mean you've managed to change me from what I--"

Faith overrode her. "Screw ya for safe passage to the exit."

"You're on."

*****

"Willow?" Fred put her head into Willow's room to see her with her head face-down on the book she'd been reading. "Willow, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Willow rasped. "It's...I'd have to explain it to you for you to understand. And that...I'm only just starting to understand it myself." She lifted her head and turned to face Fred.

"Willow," Fred insisted. "You know me. Shoot."

"I was trying to understand how inheritance effects Exaltation. The Dragon-Blooded pass theirs on from parent to child, but it seems to dilute instead of spread if they have kids with regular folks. And the rest of us can have 'Half-Caste' kids but they never inherit our full powers. It doesn't sound like proper genetics to me." Willow watched her expectantly.

"Naw. That's just not right."

"So I looked it up, and lo and behold, the First-Agers knew it. I just didn't understand what they were saying before." Willow pointed a withered claw at a line of text. "They started wondering if maybe Exaltations weren't unitary but were maybe some kind of cellular automata that propagated in our organelles. Only they couldn't get far studying that because the Exaltations still weren't made of matter or energy or maybe even information."

"But that way they could subdivide a little," Fred said, tapping her fingers on the desk. She needed a marker or five. "Enough to let the children have some power, but less. But they couldn't actually reproduce to make a whole new Exaltation? But why is that a head to desk thing?"

"If the Exaltations are made of subcellular quasi-living organelles?" Willow waited for her to respond, but Fred wasn't seeing it. "Midi-chlorians, Fred. The Exaltations are made of midi-chlorians."

Fred groaned out loud and banged her head down on the desk. "George Lucas, I'm gonna kill you."

Willow caught her by the shoulders. "Hey. At least it's progress. We've got a theory, it's just not one we like."

It was progress. Fred gave Willow a hug, then kissed her withered lips. They felt like paper over leather. "You'll figure out how to do it," she said encouragingly.

"I've only ever disguised myself as myself," Willow sighed. "Which is sorta what I really want to do, but if it happens by biting how do I bite myself?"

"I don't know," Fred sighed. "At least you've been able to look like an old woman instead of an unwrapped mummy lately. That's progress too. C'mon. Let's go see how the Architect is doing, and then it's time for me to tattoo Tara. You'll like watching that." She gave the witch a wink and pulled her to her feet.

"Two Taras," Willow lamented, "and I'm stuck like this."

Fred led her out the door and they took an elevator down to the labs near the engine rooms. It was a long ride, and Fred held her close the whole way down despite the strange feeling of her skin. If only there were some way to change her Exaltation back; Lytek had confirmed that the Abyssals had once been Solars, if Salina's memories weren't enough. Probably that would fix her body too; Solars were supposed to be the image of perfection, right?

TARA wasn't staring into any of the instruments. She wasn't meditating or reading. She was sitting calmly in a chair holding the gemstone Fred and Tara had retrieved. The moment she saw them, she stood, beaming. "I knew you'd be down soon, and I was afraid if I went to tell you I'd go racing through the halls shouting and alert everyone."

"What's with the racing-around euphoria?" Willow asked, beating Fred to it.

"It's an egg," TARA said, "and one day it'll hatch into what I'm looking for on Earth. I can use the embryonic version to track it."

""An egg of what?" Fred asked hastily before Willow could beat her to it.

"It's a Primordial behemoth," TARA explained. "It's...Autochthon's baby."

*****

"I can't believe you stopped for sex in the middle of a battle," Charity griped.

Faith smirked at her. "Life's a battle, sis. When else you gonna get some? Besides, now we have help."

Entertaining Comics emerged from the bathroom. "Okay, all clean. How're we gonna play this?"

"I figured out a direction we can go that nobody much will follow us," Faith said. "Up."

"And that'll take us to the hellmouth?" Hope said doubtfully.

"We come back down straight on top of the school," Faith explained.

"Should work," EC said, "as long as SubMachine Gun doesn't rearrange the freehold."

"She's right," Hope said. "But Faith, you said this town is pretty solidly based on Sunnydale? Odds are she won't think to rearrange up and down after this long."

"On my back!" Hope and Charity mounted up. "You too, Miss Money!"

"You're awfully strong even for being part horse," EC said quietly.

"I'm more than just a centaur," Faith said. "I'm the Herald, the Slayer who isn't. I'm a Solar. Now hold on tight." And she took off in a burst of speed, spinning about to smash through the roof with her hooves. Hope and EC shrieked; Charity just sighed.

Faith streaked upward like a bolt of lightning. Maybe her flight ceiling was more of a suggestion here, because she looked down to see Sunnydale receding into the void below her. Or maybe it was momentum; no time to waste getting back down in that case. She turned just as a startled Alternate History manifested next to her and plunged toward the school.

"I was going to say something to her," EC complained. "Now we have to get past NonBinary."

"Who's NonBinary?" Faith grumbled. These names had to mean something, but she was getting nothing from them.

"NonBinary's the pride of the freehold," EC said, leaving Faith no more enlightened than before, "just like I'm the keeper and Alternate History's the master." Charity and Hope nodded. It must mean something to them.

Faith was about to ask when her dive toward the school suddenly accelerated and she crashed through the roof.

*****

Stephen prowled the hallways of a city that thronged with people and knew himself alone. He was not from here, nor was he from Earth. He had been born into a reality that made most hell dimensions look like paradise. This...utopia of a city was so alien it might as well be wilderness.

He had to kill the monster that was his father. Killing his blond get would be a bonus. How to go about that in a city that would treat their deaths as murder was a problem to be solved, nothing more. The absence of a body would help. What to do afterwards until he could return to Earth was another problem, though he was seriously considering whether he should destroy the half-animal abominations as well. Certainly it'd be a way to use up time.

The next hallway was crowded, so he slipped into a maintenance hatch and went around. There was no way he could become lost. Here they called him a Lunar, but he had heard whispers that that was just another sort of demon, an "Anathema". If he had a way to purify himself--

He rounded a corner and found himself face to face with a girl in pigtails and an indecently short and tight shirt and shorts. She was one of the other "Lunars", the new one. Tara Maclay.

"Hey," she said. "I'll m-move, sorry. I was just k-kinda exploring. You're Stephen. I heard you were Angel's son."

"And Darla's," he admitted, hanging his head. There was no reason to be ashamed about it in front of this Anathema. At least it bothered him. She seemed to have embraced it. "No, I don't know how that's possible, and yes, I'm at least half demon." It was a wonder he wasn't all demon, but evidently God had chosen to give him a bare chance at salvation.

"Are you sure?" Tara asked. "My father told me I was part demon, but it was all a lie."

Stephen gave her a sad smile. "Pretty sure." Maybe her father was a liar...or maybe he was just a prophet. She couldn't have been born Anathema, if the scraps he'd heard were true. "For one thing, I can turn into them. I know more demon shapes than anything else. Can you do that?"

"Not yet," Tara said, "b-but I heard that it's just an advanced technique. I...m-might learn it one day but I'm not sure I want to."

Stephen arranged himself to look out a vent at the crowds. "It doesn't matter," he said after a moment. "We're Anathema, after all. Humans don't have powers like this."

"Most humans," Tara said, shaking her head. "But we do. I'm not...Who raised you? Not Angel. Surely not Darla."

"A good man. Daniel Holtz. He's my real father." Shark-human hybrids. What foul power could have produced those besides Satan? "Father told me that if I used my powers carefully, and only to fight evil, God might forgive me for having them."

"Mine told me if I was lucky enough to die a natural death before I changed I might not be d-damned," Tara said, "but suicide would send me to hell even faster. I never changed, though, and my friends proved I wasn't demony at all."

Stephen did his best not to scoff at that. "People aren't supposed to have powers like ours."

"You know, the B-bible says Jesus appeared to his disciples in another form," Tara said uncertainly. "He healed people. He walked on water. The Pharisees said he was possessed. I'm not Christian, n-not any more, but verses like that helped me run away, because even if M-mom was wrong, so was Dad."

"Jesus never did the kind of things we can do." Obviously this girl was here to tempt him. She was human-looking and very pretty, and her arguments were only subtly wrong. Well, there was a way to turn her off him and prove her wrong at the same time. "My father beat me for nearly half an hour after I did this for the first time. It was ungodly."

Tara jumped backwards as he changed. She put the side of her finger in her mouth before realizing what she was doing, then pulled it away. "M-my father m-might have approved if I'd...I'm n-not sure. Are you...is that comfortable for you? Anja and Kolohi said it usually is for Lunars b-but not always."

Her father might have _approved_? What? "I've never been like this more than a few minutes. It's not a problem as far as I can tell." She seemed much _more_ interested now than when he'd been a boy, which made no sense to him. Her. This sort of thing made pronouns awkward. Well, if Tara was going to pay this sort of attention now-- Stephen changed back.

"You d-didn't have to do that," she said. "I m-mean, unless you wanted to. You make a very p-pretty girl."

Well, at least he'd gotten the Anathema flustered. "Er...thanks. I guess. You're pretty too."

"I doubt I'd make a good-looking boy," Tara said, her confidence slowly returning. "Though I've been considering trying it out. Just to...see."

What did you say to that anyway?

*****

The halls were filled with students rushing to their next classes. "You're going today be late!" shouted a boy who looked like Warren but definitely wasn't, because he tossed her a backpack.

Faith looked around frantically, but the bell rang and the halls cleared at once. She'd never been to high school. Even before she officially became a dropout she'd missed about ninety percent of the time and slept in class the rest of it.

Someone behind her cleared his throat. "I should think you belong in chemistry class, Miss Lehane."

"Giles!" It wasn't him, of course. "Rupe, you know I don't do the school thing. I'd never pass chemistry."

Not-Giles sighed deeply and removed his glasses. "Indeed not, not with as little effort as you seem to be putting into things. There's been talk of putting you in remedial courses, but in all honesty I believe it may be too late for that. You should have been placed in special education to begin with."

"Giles, you know I don't need the short bus, I just--I'm not the sharpest tack in the...I'm not that dumb, G." Her head was filling with fog again, not quite as bad as when she'd been turning into a horse but pretty much the same.

"Could've fooled me," Xander said. Of course he wasn't Xander because...why wasn't Xander Xander? "I'm surprised she made it this far."

"I ain't--you can't--I'm not dumb," Faith said, face hot with anger and embarrassment.

"Then why can you not dress yourself like any other student?" Giles asked.

"Because--Look at me, Giles! Don't you see what's diff-diff-not the same about me?" She was losing some really easy words now. How was she supposed to stop them if she couldn't rem-rem-think how?

"Ash! NonBinary! Stop it!" EC snapped. "Don't you know she's the Herald? She can get us out of here."

"Out?" Giles--Ash said, expression changing all at once. The fog vanished like...fog. "Why didn't you say so?"

"She's the first one I had a chance to tell!" Faith growled. "I only got through to her cause I managed to beat her to the punch! And I don't like being made even dumber than I already am, Ash!"

"Take her downstairs," Ash said to NonBinary. "Show her the Seal."

"You got it," the Xander-copy agreed. "C'mon, ED. Seal of Danzalthar down here in the basement."

"And I am _not_ Erectile Dysfunction, whoever she is!" She followed, though. She had to get out of this madhouse before even the raksha locked her up without a key.

"You definitely are not," EC agreed. "Not that I know firsthand cause that'd be weird. Though totally possible if someone made the right wishes."

Faith held her tongue, half expecting the Seal of Danzalthar to bark at her and balance a ball on its nose. It was a proper pentagram, though. She got in close and examined it.

"When the Thought of Ea Gso bleeds, it opens," NonBinary explained. "But except for one time when a dragon got through, it only ever seems to lead to a dark, confined wet smooshy space. No one wants to push their luck."

The star abruptly began to fold in on itself. "There it goes," Hope said. "Herald, you gonna investigate?"

"Not really sure I like the idea of poking anything in there," Faith said as she peered into the darkness. "But if Ea Gso's Thought is out there I wanna give it a piece of my mind. Anyway I gotta get out of the Wyld before something goes bad wrong."

"Come back for us," Charity said firmly as Faith leaned down and stuck her head through.

"Of course," Faith agreed without a second thought. "We're sis--"

The space beyond the portal clamped onto her face and began to drag her inside.

*****

"Leviathan likes what you've done," Xander said, stretching out in the bed like a cat, arms above his head. Dawn considered pinning them there. No, another time. "He still doesn't like you. He thinks you're doing it to get favors from me, or so you can take it back later and make me fail."

"He can't imagine that I just like you and think you deserve it," Dawn finished. She arched her back, showing off her breasts. Xander was a Solar, a Zenith, and he deserved all the majesty he could get.

"You're a raksha," Xander said, reaching up to fondle her. "You don't really like anyone. Obviously."

Dawn's stomach suddenly twinged and gurgled. "Ow. Crampies. Why doesn't being imaginary come with no periods?"

"Because you imagine them?" Xander suggested, unfazed. He reached for the box of Luthe-style tampons, which except for the wrappers looked perfectly ordinary, biology being biology.

Or maybe it wasn't. Dawn's belly bulged outwards suddenly as if she'd stuffed herself full of food. "Hey, what--?" A second surge rippled through her, this time accompanied by a powerful cramping pain. "Okay...even by our standards this is weird."

"Raksha standards or Scoobie standards?" Xander wanted to know. "Cause I wasn't sure we had any." He had his briefs on and was yanking on pants, though, so he was taking it seriously.

"Either one!" Dawn grunted as a third wave of growth and another huge cramp hit her. She looked now as if she'd swallowed a cantelope.

"Towers of Azure," Xander said, "medical emergency in Admiral Alexander's quarters."

"No anomalies detected in your health," the AI said quizzically. "Warning, Amyana: there is a raksha in your quarters."

"I know that," Xander growled as Dawn's belly stretched further. "She's the medical emergency!"

"Raksha, by definition, cannot have a medical emergency," Towers said, raising its voice over Dawn's moans of pain. "Their biology is wholly imaginary and subject to their will."

With a cry of rage, Dawn grabbed the clock from the nightstand and flung it at the speaker, though her throw was ruined as her belly grew even larger. She looked full-term now, but the growth showed no signs of abating. "I am not in control of this, you stupid computer!"

"Prior experience suggests that the raksha is lying, Admiral." The growing weight and clenching pain in her belly made it impossible for Dawn to rise from the bed, or she would have ripped the speaker from the wall.

"I'll go get help," Xander began, but Dawn seized him by the arm.

"Leave me like this and I swear I'll rip your balls off!" She dragged him back onto the bed. "I know you didn't do it," she said a little more calmly. "I wouldn't be bleeding if you had, right?"

"Bleeding?" Xander asked stupidly as another surge pinned her down. "Wait. Could you have a portal in there?"

Okay, that wasn't a stupid question, just a terrifying one. "Well, if I do it's going to rip me open," Dawn groaned. Her belly quivered and squeezed, now a mound bigger than a beach ball. Comparisons failed her.

As if her complaint had been a prophecy, the next surge of growth was accompanied by a stretching pain lower down. Dawn screamed and clutched at her stomach. "Damn it, Xander, do _something_!"

"I will," Xander said patiently, "as soon as you let go of my arm."

Something blocked from Dawn's view shoved her legs apart as it began to force its way out of her. Her hips popped, and popped again; she thought they might be dislocating. She released her deathgrip on Xander. "Get Buffy and see if she can help!"

Whatever the thing was that was coming out of her, she was _still growing_. It must still be coming through the portal inside her. The next push gave her some relief from the stretching, but it felt temporary. There was a lot more still in there.

Another contraction shuddered its way through her, and Dawn felt her hips physically pushed apart. She should have been literally torn in two by this already, whatever it was. If that had been a head coming out first, this must be shoulders. If she was giving birth to an adult, she was going to wring their neck. Followed by Xander's on general principle, even if it wasn't strictly his fault.

"What in the fucking hell?" said a voice from between her legs. "Just when I think the Wyld can't get any weirder--"

" _Faith?_ " If that was really Faith, she was wrong only on one point. "You're, uh, not in the Wyld. At least, not any longer. Second, in case you couldn't tell, it's me, Dawn. Third...how the heck did you end up in--owwww!"

"Got lost coming to find Buffy for help. The rest you don't wanna know." Wrench. "Yes! Got my arms!"

Dawn felt Faith begin flailing around. "What do I not wanna know?"

"How much more of me is in there. Something tried to eat me an' I got turned into a centaur."

That was very definitely not something she wanted to know. "Into _what_? Faith, I'm not infinitely stretchy."

Faith managed to push her face into view, up and to the left. She was wearing some sort of golden headband that covered her eye. "Are you sure? Because I think we're already out of the possible zone here."

"Jesus Christ!" Dawn's view of Faith was blocked as she swelled even larger. Her pelvis had to have come entirely apart. A second pair of shoulders--for lack of a better word--was forcing its way out of her, and this part of the body was bigger around than Dawn normally was herself. The contraction ended before the legs were entirely free. "Faith, I swear if I live through this, you are so going to pay. I'm never going to feel anything in my girl parts again, am I?" And at that moment, with Faith hanging out of her, trying to help by pulling herself further out...Xander walked back in. With Shadow.

"Damn. What the hell is that? It can't really be Faith." Shadow stood there staring in the doorway. "Do you need me to shove it back in?"

"No!" Dawn shrieked. "Get her out of me! I don't care if she's come to kill us all, pull her out and kill her later!"

To her credit, Shadow didn't argue. She and Xander each took one of Faith's arms, Dawn grabbed hold of the bed, and they all pulled while Dawn pushed. "I can so be Faith," Faith growled. "I came to ask for help. Didn't think I'd arrive like this."

Faith's forelegs popped free at last, and Dawn felt her insides begin to settle back together. "It's definitely not how I'd want to travel," Dawn said.

Faith began trying to use her forelegs to help crawl forward and out. The deck seemed too slick for her hooves, but little by little her barrel chest, her belly, and finally her rump with its jet-black tail squeezed free. Dawn watched with horrified fascination as her body started shrinking back down. Faith's hind legs slid out, and she struggled to her feet while Dawn lay back, exhausted, on the bed.

"I would say that was impossible," Xander said, "but lately I've had to redefine the word."

"What the hell are you?" Faith asked Dawn. "What is she?"

"If you've been in the Wyld," Dawn said, "you've met raksha." She held up one hand. "I'm one too."

Faith brushed her fingers through her wet hair. "Shit. Well, don't try to turn me into anything, and we're cool."

"Wouldn't think of it," Dawn said thoughtfully.

Faith gave a little start. "You're the Thought of Ea Gso? B's little sister? Does she know?"

Dawn glanced at Shadow, then back at Faith. "Yuh-huh. It's kind of a sore point. The Thought of Ea Gso? That's a mouthful. Sounds almost familiar, though. I remember lots more than I used to."

Faith's stomach gurgled loudly, and she pressed her hands to it and made a pained face. "Can we discuss it over dinner? And breakfast and lunch?"

Shadow and Xander looked at each other. "We'll break out the all-you-can-eat buffet," Xander said.

Shadow gave that a wry grin. "Otherwise known as a standard meal for the Exalted," she said.

Faith's stomach rumbled louder, this time where she couldn't reach. "You're on."


	6. Bloodlines

Tara scurried into Fred's lab. "Sorry I'm late! And don't feed me that line about going when I please where I please. I know that; I also know I need to get tattooed before I go see Hamoji and it needs to be done soon."

Fred nodded. "It's my fault for not learning it sooner, though. We could have had this done on the way."

"Fair enough." Tara peeled off the cutoff t-shirt she'd been wearing and began unfastening her daisy-dukes. "I ran into Stephen. We hadn't talked much. He knows how to do a lot, but he thinks a lot of things--" She hesitated. "I think he really is demon-blooded, though. He's Angel and Darla's son. But he's a nice guy. At least, he's a guy most of the time."

Fred raised an eyebrow at that. "Was he trying to get into your pants? Because those are, y'know...awfully revealing."

"Fred, I don't think he even knows what gay means. He looked startled that he was turning me on when he changed." A little reluctantly, Tara peeled off her undies too.

"Hmm. I'm sorry this has to be so intimate, by the way. It's just part of the process." Fred took the needles she'd borrowed from the Sage out of her drawer. He'd been spending a lot of time away lately, not that she could blame him.

Tara shook her head. "We agreed it wasn't g-going to happen again and we weren't t-talking about it. So there's nothing to worry about."

Fred nodded agreement. "Nothing to worry about. By the way, for what it's worth, I grew up Southern Baptist. My parents probably would've taken the whole demons-existing bit in stride, and yet I've never told them I've been high or kissed a girl or, y'know, had sex ever."

"Assemblies of God," Tara confided as Fred set the needle to her right arm. "Though honestly my father put so much of his own spin on things he was probably technically a heretic himself."

"How'd he end up married to your mother?" Fred began a slow series of curving lines. "They don't seem very compatible."

"I only figured out the last bit myself when I was in Yu-Shan," Tara warned. "It's a long story."

"We've got a lot to do," Fred said as she worked up from the wrist. "Go right ahead."

"Before my mother there were witches in my family line," Tara said, "but they weren't Wiccan. Miriam Becker was Pennsylvania Dutch, and Mennonite, back in the mid-1800s. Her family made hexes to protect farms--you know the star symbols?--and some of them were sin eaters."

"Wow! That's some old stuff there."

Tara agreed and went on. "She was twenty-three when something went wrong. Apparently she really was possessed for a while, by something like an Ethros. She killed her husband before being exorcised by a traveling preacher named Isaac Maclay.

"Her family didn't trust Isaac. They claimed he'd sabotaged one of her sigils to let the demon loose on her, but she'd fallen in love, and they ran off to eastern Kentucky where he was born. They had a son and a daughter, and the son was a great preacher, but the daughter was a witch--she could read minds.

"Isaac managed to persuade people that his line was strong enough in the Holy Spirit to keep witches under control, and before long people started marrying off suspicious daughters to his sons and grandsons. Technically within a few generations there was some inbreeding, but no closer than first cousins and not usually that.

"My mother ran away to college like I did. That's where she learned about Wicca the religion. But her scholarship got canceled from something related to Vietnam, and her parents took her home to get married.

"She always told me my dad was a liar, but after she died I found her diary. The last entry said Isaac Maclay had told the truth. I thought she was admitting we really were demons."

"But Spike proved you weren't," Fred said, puzzled. "Did she doubt herself that much?"

"That's the part I figured out in Yu-Shan," Tara explained. "Isaac told the truth that he was innocent. I went back and reread Mom's entries about the family history. Some of the Beckers agreed he hadn't done it, that more than half of Miriam's hexes failed on their own. She wasn't any good, Fred. She had the knowledge but not the...the knack."

Fred stared. "But then where'd the family talent come from? Later marriages?"

Tara looked her calmly in the eyes. "Isaac Maclay was a very successful exorcist, prophet, and faith healer, Fred. I don't know where he got it--not demons, apparently--but it came from him. And the best faith healers in the entire Pentecostal movement, the ones who aren't fakes, are from the Maclay line. Only the men, of course."

"Then it always ran on both sides." Fred goggled at her. "You have to tell your family, Tara. Whoever will listen. And this is definitely going into your tattoos "

"I don't know if anyone will," Tara said regretfully. "I always thought Cousin Beth had potential, but she's convinced herself never to try. And the men...they're so invested I can't imagine them ever believing me. I'll try when I get a chance, though. Maybe Beth will listen. She's got nothing to lose."

**Chapter 63: Bloodlines**

The flame died, and Beth Maclay uncurled. She could hear loud voices, but only after long minutes could she make out what they were saying. It was her uncle Simon and his sons Nathan and James, and they were arguing about the fire she must have been in.

"The Lord sent the Spirit down like fire," Simon was saying from somewhere below her. "Fire isn't just from hell. Lord knows, boys, even hell is God's judgment."

"Well, he was judging someone mighty fierce," James said.

Beth stepped lightly over the wreckage of the bed and out the door. She stopped to look at herself in the bathroom mirror for a moment. She was the same, for the most part, but flickering golden flames shone from her hair without burning it.

"Uncle," she said softly, coming down the stairs into the kitchen.

"Beth!" Uncle Simon took a step toward her, then halted uncertainly. "What's that on your head, Beth Maclay?"

"The Lord sent his angel to save me, Uncle Simon. My faith set me free of the family curse. There's no demon in me any more."

Her uncle gave her a skeptical frown. "Exorcisms have been tried and failed, Beth. I...." His eyes went back to the light radiating from her head.

"When Moses came down from the mountain, his face shone from speaking with God," Beth said. "When the people gathered on Pentecost, the Spirit of God rested on their foreheads like tongues of fire."

Nathan shook his head. "You're a Maclay woman, Beth. The devil always has his counterfeits. Maybe this is a trick of Satan."

She ignored Nathan and looked to his father. "If I cast out demons by the power of Beelzebub, then by whom do your sons cast them out? Whoever blasphemes the Son of Man may be forgiven, but one who blasphemes the Holy Spirit will never be forgiven."

Uncle Simon shook his head at her. "Your argument would hold more water if I'd seen you cast out--"

Beth Maclay ignored him and opened the basement door. She strode down the stairs. There they were. With the utmost calm she reached out and snapped the nearest one's neck, then seized the other and dragged him upstairs. You couldn't last long as a Maclay woman if you got hysterical about every little problem.

"Here," she said, holding up the three-eyed demon by its neck. She drove three fingers of her other hand through its back eye and into its brain, and it collapsed, spasming weakly, onto the floor. "You were saying?"

Her uncle inclined his head--not to her, of course, but to God who was speaking through her. "Boys. I'd say we're on holy ground. What would the Lord have of us, Beth Maclay?" He kicked his shoes off quickly, and his sons followed suit.

"We're going to round up all the disgusting demon witches in this family," Beth said, "and then we're going to purify them in the Spirit and in fire. After that....well, there's a lot of witches and demons in the world these days." And if she could find her, Beth would see to it they started with Cousin Tara.

*****

Faith scarfed down her fifteenth roll--she was craving grains, surprise surprise--and looked up from the table. "I thought Creation was s'posed to be...like Greece or something."

"I take it you mean ancient Greece," Xander suggested. "We can do _tzatziki_ if you want."

"Most of Creation is pretty rough," albino-Buffy acknowledged. "But Luthe is pre-apocalyptic, so it makes LA look primitive."

"The ancient Solars were smarter than Reed Richards and a lot more helpful," Xander went on. "Until they went bonkers, anyway."

Faith nodded. "And started making instruments out of surgically-altered kids and spells that mind-wiped people into sex toys. I remember." That drew a few stares. "Shadow's Grace killed some of 'em. She was plenty old herself, so it wasn't a guarantee you'd lose your marbles."

Buffy nodded slowly after a few moments. "I don't remember much, but Garen Cuzo negotiated a deal with the eastern raksha that guaranteed a thousand years of peace...in exchange for a city full of people to harvest souls from. He thought it was a real triumph."

"Amyana wasn't that bad," Xander put in, "but she drowned most of a million people when she sank Luthe. She had reasons, I guess, but still."

"Wait, wait," Faith said, putting down a fish fillet. "B, you said 'he'? I thought all the Slayers in your line were girls."

"Oh boy," Xander muttered.

"They were," Buffy explained, "only I'm not the Slayer. Or Buffy exactly."

She didn't seem to expect Faith to take that in stride. "No, I get it. You're a copy. Fred told me about it. You're still her. I mean, look at me. I'm all horsey, but I'm still Faith Lehane."

"You're missing a detail," Buffy said. "I'm an Abythal." She began to display a wicked set of fangs, then hesitated. "Ugh. Vampire thpeech impediment. Totally ruins the intimidation factor. Anyway, before you ask: Buffy-prime went evil, then I got called to negotiate an alliance with a Deathlord. This was the price, and since I thought I was gonna have to kill me, I accepted. Then Xander goes and figures out how to save her--"

"Go team heart!" the goofball called out.

"And now there are two permanent mes," Buffy finished. "You're supposed to call me Unconquerable Shadow, or just Shadow for short. And Will's the Scholar Hanged From the Tree of Life. It's an Abyssal thing."

Faith nodded. "I saw what happens to people who call Shoat Cora. We're five by five. Okay, next order of business: can you fix me? Going home looking like this'll be a bitch and a half."

Shadow and Xander looked at each other. "I'm sure someone can. We'll ask around."

"This isn't exactly Faerun," Xander said. "People here are gonna look at you funny too. Maybe not in Luthe, but most places. But I'm not sure any of us can yet."

"I got turned into a muppet," Buffy said. "I got lucky and a demon lord fixed it."

"You go, Buffy!" Faith gave her a high five, though Buffy took too long to respond. "What is it with you and demons anyway?"

"The norm for Exalted," Shadow said apologetically. "I couldn't admit it back then, but yeah: using our powers does make us hungry and horny, and if all we have around is mortals we tend to go through them like popcorn. In other news: you're hot and I'm blind."

"Well, duh," Faith said. "I'm seeing somebody, but if you wanna hook up, Amy's cool with it. We're not an exclusive."

Shadow gave her a once-over. "Might take you up on it before you go. Anyway, that wasn't what I meant about the demon, but you weren't wrong. Even married him first. Then slayed him third, so no worries."

"No big. What about the eye? Can you fix that?"

"Pretty sure we can," Xander said. "Little simpler than a horse-leg-ectomy. I'll see what we need to do. How'd you lose it?"

"Bullet to the brain. Lucky for me, they were tryin' to call more Slayers, so they shocked me afterwards. Underestimated my healing factor." Faith hesitated. She'd come here for this. "Lilah's president. She's gonna free the Old Ones. I have to stop her. Only, we couldn't keep her from getting elected and we couldn't manage to kill her. The one time I got close enough, I think she let me and then she kicked my ass. What the hell do I do?"

Shadow blinked. "Faith, I...I'm not the Slayer any more. I'm a Moonshadow--a traveling negotiator, mostly. It's not that I can't fight, but...you're Night Caste. You ought to be better at this than me. Better than either of me, if you're doing it all sneaky."

"Fuck. You mean I came here for nothing?" Faith shoved herself away from the long table and rose to her feet. "B, what the fuck am I supposed to do?"

Xander gave Faith a long, considering look. "I don't think you're gonna like this, but...the Exalted weren't just made to fight. We were made to lead. Buffy's a queen now. So's Fred. I'm an admiral, and Anya....well, that's complicated, but--" He took a moment to clear his throat. "I know. It's America, not some city-state in another dimension. Your friends don't want to. You don't want to. But...."

"Faith," Buffy cut in, "if the only way to save the world is to go all Genghis Khan...you go all Genghis Khan. I wouldn't want to do it either. We were raised to believe in democracy and trained to work in secret. But neither of those is more important than saving seven billion lives. Am I right?"

Faith didn't think horse bodies were made for sitting down hard. She did it anyway. "Yeah. You're right. Shit, but you're right."

*****

Fred walked around Tara and began to work on her back. This wasn't so simple as the arms had been. There the tattoos had flowed like a branching river; here they wanted to make jagged lines and sudden hooks. "Why Sunnydale?"

Tara shrugged awkwardly. "I thought I was a demon. It was the hellmouth."

"You just thought it was the thing to do." Fred nodded, but Tara shook her head vigorously. "You figured the Slayer would stop you?"

"Fred, I didn't know anything about a Slayer." She seemed to be folding into herself. "I thought I was going to stop caring. I thought I was going to be evil. I went where I...I thought other evil things would accept me. And I'd hurt people and wreck things b-but I wouldn't care. And I knew the right thing to do was k-kill myself, or g-go home where my family c-could control me. But I just didn't want to. I was tired of doing the right thing b-because it always made me miserable."

"Jesus, Tara." Fred finished up the unexpected jagged line and knelt down to enfold her in a hug. "You were lied to. You actually did the right thing. We're all glad you didn't kill yourself or go home."

"It doesn't change what I thought I was doing. You have no idea how many times I lied to Willow or sabotaged her spells so she wouldn't find out my secret."

"You didn't really have a secret, Tara, except that your family was horrible." Fred suddenly became aware that she was cuddling a naked Tara and began to pull away, but Tara clutched her arms and hung on for dear life. "Tara. It's okay. That's all over now."

Tara turned to face her for a moment, looking into her eyes. The moment stretched on...and then Tara turned back around. "We have to finish this. Any more questions about college?"

Fred shook her head slightly. "Nah, I'm done with that. Let's move on."

*****

"Thanks, Dennis!" Harmony said with a grin. She followed the ghost through the cemetery, leading her shambling horde...well, her handful of shambling minions...toward the fight. Amy was pretty sure to win; it was just one vampire, though she was a powerful one. That wasn't the point of this fight.

"She's not a good candidate for ensoulment," Kate explained to Shoat. Shoat had her own minions, of course. "She was already a serial killer. She wasn't exactly using her soul anyway." Shoat nodded solemnly.

Up ahead, Amy was trading blows with Sharon Adams. Sharon was somewhere around as strong as Amy, who hadn't managed to amp up her strength too much yet, but Amy's telekinesis was more than an equalizer. Sharon's blows struck branches and stones and globes of force.

Harmony raised her hands and framed the vampire between them. The bond to the body felt different from the sort the zombies had, but it was there between her fingers. It was like the difference between...cotton and polyester? Never mind, not important. She kept her right hand up and brought out the athame Amy had helped her pick out, slicing with her left.

The vampire had a moment to look startled before she collapsed into dust. "Woot woot!" Harmony clapped once. Not only had she succeeded, magic felt _good_.

Shoat brushed her hands together as if brushing off the dust. "Now we know the Puppeteer's Knife spell works on vampires."

"Would've come in handy for Slayers all these years," Robin said testily. "We know why they weren't allowed to learn it."

Kate made a quiet _humph_ y noise. "While I'm fairly sure a great many Watchers are assholes, imagine if Slayers had gotten their hands on some of these other spells. Say, the ones that make or summon horrible monsters. All in a good cause, no doubt."

Harm tuned out the argument. Kate and Robin had gotten worse since Faith left and Robin started trying to train new powers. She'd half-expected necromancy to feel bad instead of good like her other powers, but it was just a different good. She was brushing up against death and surviving.

Channeling energy into her body made her feel taut and, um...energized. Channeling it into her head made her brain swim in an ocean of ideas she couldn't have imagined before. Channeling it into her words and behaviors made her absolutely, supremely confident. Faith seemed to experience it more basically, more...elementally, but Harm was fairly sure this was what she meant about the aftermath of a good slay.

She wasn't complaining, except maybe about the guy shortage. Riley was always so reluctant. If this kept up she wasn't sure what she was going to do. Why couldn't more guys Exalt?

Still arguing. Harmony slapped one hand against a tombstone. "To me, my minions!" It was a cheesy and unnecessary thing to say, but it made everyone laugh, which cut off the fight, and that was good.

It was all good.

*****

"What's the most heroic thing you ever did?" Fred held up a hand. "Doesn't have to be the thing that got you Exalted. We all know that couldn't happen at home."

Tara was surprised to realize she'd thought this through. "Glory came for me. She thought at first I was the Key, but I knew it was Dawn. I wouldn't tell her, so she told me in detail what she was going to do to me, how she was going to break my mind and make me suffer. And I kept quiet. She reached inside my head and tore me up. I hurt and I was afraid and the worst part was I knew it was all my fault. I know now it wasn't, of course...and I know that sounds really, really passive, doesn't it?"

Fred put the needle to Tara's temples. "Not all heroism is active. You were protecting Dawn, and the world. Some of the stories here say the turning point of the Primordial War came when the Sun traded himself for one human hostage." Her eyes widened in horror as the moonsilver ink took form: the suggestion of hands or claws clutching at Tara's forehead. But the imagery refused to be unmade. Suddenly the grasping fingers became offering hands, holding Tara's caste mark as it flared for a moment. "Whew. Sorry, you'll have to see it for yourself. It...." She reached over and held up a mirror.

"That's a little disturbing," Tara agreed.

"The process isn't fully under my control," Fred explained. "Or anyone else's. It...inscribes the truth."

Tara nodded thoughtfully. "That's magic, all right."

*****

Dawn came round the corner, but Faith was gone. She looked left, then right, then back the way she'd come. Then...she considered that the alleyway opened up here, as she left the interior and stepped out among the towers...she looked up.

Faith's hands were pressed against the narrow passage's walls, holding her upside down. For a human-shaped person, the maneuver was just extremely hard; she'd seen Buffy do it before. For Faith as she was now, horse torso held stiffly horizontal above her human one....

"Faith, that's impossible."

"Yeah. Was hoping you'd keep going." Faith's arms belatedly began to quiver with the strain. She tried to lift the horse body into alignment, but the join wasn't flexible enough. "Well, you saw me." She dropped down, somehow using momentum to flip herself over and land on all four hooves. "Surprised you're looking for me."

"Made up with Glory," Dawn said. "Making up with you is small potatoes. Well, unless we have to kiss."

"Wouldn't think of it, short st...you've grown. Well, you're still her kid sister to me, so...." Dawn studied Faith's very peculiar expression as she realized just how hard it was to think of Dawn as a child.

"Let me help, Faith." Dawn flickered out of existence for a moment. When she reappeared, she was back to being shorter than Buffy, with faint traces of "baby fat" on her cheeks. "This is more what you were expecting, huh?"

"You look more like the old you," Faith said, taking a deep, relieved breath.

"I feel more like her too," Dawn acknowledged. "Only really I'm not either of us. I'm not fifteen. I'm not twenty. I'm more like twenty thousand.I was unshaped once, and I think I've existed since Time Not."

"You're Yog-Sothoth," Faith said with an uncomfortable frown.

"I'm who?" Dawn asked. "What's that?" Was Faith seriously calling her a Lovecraft demon?

"The Thought of Ea Gso," Faith said slowly and carefully. "The other raksha, the ones I met in the Wyld, they told me about you working with the Craven Emperor--"

"'--to make a breakthrough," Dawn finished. "I...I remember that. I remember what I am." She studied Faith through slitted eyes. "And you came through me."

"Long story, totally an accident," Faith said quickly.

"No big," Dawn agreed. "Walk with me." She took Faith's hand and pulled her back through the open hatch. "Sometimes during the Balorian Crusade, raksha would open portals from the Wyld to a freehold deep in Creation. No one does it anymore; it's too risky. But I wasn't finished yet. I'm a chancel, a little pocket dimension, and I have a whole freehold _inside_ me...breakthrough and all. Making me a person again was supposed to put an end to the Key."

"It didn't work." Faith stated the obvious as they strolled past a series of storage rooms.

"No. I don't know exactly why, but it was done by humans, so you can see how they might've made a mistake." Dawn opened one of the doors and stepped into a room full of spare parts. "I remember plotting with the Emperor, and against him, too. Just politics as usual. He's Fomorian--he wants to reduce existence back to the pure chaos of the Wyld, so completely that there'll never be anything else again. And I was shuddadvaita."

"Gesundheit," Faith said, barking a laugh.

"The shuddadvaita want a compromise," Dawn said seriously. "They want to merge the Wyld and Creation to make a mostly-stable world, but one that changes slowly and unpredictably."

"You say 'they' now." Faith idly toyed with an unfamiliar tool.

"I'm not who I used to be," Dawn said, "not after thousands of years as an artifact and then being basically Buffy's human sister for a year. You're not who you used to be either, after going out into pure chaos."

"I'm kind of raksha myself," Faith agreed. "At least, that's what they told me. Oh, yeah, and a centaur," she added. This time the laugh sounded a little forced.

"They're gonna try to use you," Dawn said. "They'd never have done it otherwise, and they're not finished."

"Everybody always does," Faith said with a shrug. "Let them try."

Just then a tall, slender man opened the door, bald and calm of expression. "Faith," he said, "I am the Sage of the Depths. I've come to see about your eye."

*****

Tara squirmed. The tattoos were nearly done, though. Outside, the moon was riding high over the sea; she simply knew.

And Fred was tattooing her ass.

"Was Willow your first? When did you know?" It seemed a little invasive right now, but it was as much a part of her as the questions about witchcraft. More, perhaps.

Tara blushed. "M-madonna," she said. "I was watching a Madonna video some time in the early nineties. It feels so cliche."

"Madonna's pretty," Fred said evasively. Or maybe she was trying not to watch her own hands too closely. "Who cares if it's cliche?"

"That's not all of it," Tara admitted. "A girl in Wicca Group...Nancy Downs...we had sex a couple of times before Willow. She wasn't bad, but I felt so guilty I didn't get much out of it. She finally told me I was too repressed and left."

"Ah," Fred said simply. "Been there, with boys even. Why do you think I started smoking pot?"

"I kissed a few boys in high school because I thought I should," Tara said. "I didn't really get anything from that."

"You should know what the Sage told me," Fred said. "The Exaltations are pure improbability, like the Heart of Gold. There are powers that can bypass orientation--Anya might have mentioned that. And sometimes even people who were completely straight or gay before Exaltation get a little bi over time. It can take decades or even centuries, but it's most common with Lunars. it isn't that old business about experimenting because you live so long and get bored. It's a mix of raw power and past life memories, and it has absolutely nothing to do with normal human sexuality, so try not to be freaked by it. Do you remember anything at all from Ma-Ha-Suchi?"

"Flashes," Tara said. "I don't know how long it takes Lytek to clean an Exaltation, but I don't think it's his fault. Ma-Ha-Suchi was just kinda...ground-in? I remember some of his dates...and an apocalypse...and a little of what he planned to do...and Buffy's face as he died. Out of a couple thousand years that's not much, is it?"

"Not much at all," Fred said distractedly. When had she scooted around to the front? "Ma-Ha-Suchi was bi as hell, to hear Leviathan tell it. So if you feel something for a guy or two, don't let it get to you, okay? But it probably won't happen for a long time, if ever." She looked up at Tara, face flushed bright red. "And yay we're done here!" She pulled away hastily.

Tara stood and stared at herself in the mirror. The tattoos hurt--in some places they had hurt a lot--but there was none of the swelling or itching she would've expected from mundane tattoos. And there was no wonder Fred had been embarrassed; they covered some very intimate places. They were smoothly curved in most places, jagged in a few. Straight nowhere, unlike the circuitboard cross-hatches that covered parts of Fred. She giggled a little at that. If she felt attraction for guys now, well, she knew the cause and it was okay, but she didn't think she would. Not soon, at the very least. "You did a good job."

"Thanks," Fred said, still blushing. "I'll make a few adjustments once I'm sure of your caste, but they should function now."

"Next stop," Tara said, "Mount Hamoji."

*****

Two miles from Gem, Buffy stood on the lip of an active volcano, surrounded by fretting courtiers. "Everybody chill. Please. I know what I'm doing."

Her double had carried out her instructions, and now she was going to have a minor marvel to greet this "Scarlet Whisper" with, one that all of Gem could benefit from. She picked up one end of the red and white jade chain. It was no masterpiece; it had been worked by apprentice Terrestrials. But it wouldn't need to be one--just long. Buffy looked down, gauging the distance to the lava.

Then she backed away six fwet and took a running leap.

How far down? Ten stories? Twelve? It was hard to measure as she hurtled toward the bubbling red rock. She pointed her hands above her head and straightened out just in time to pierce the lava below her. "And it's a perfect ten!" she quipped.

Lava filled her mouth. It was dense like toothpaste, but it didn't burn her. Not even a little. She took an experimental swallow. "Gravelly." She could even see, though the bright red-orange glow made her squint and revealed little.

The jade chain still trailed behind her, indestructible as promised. She lifted her right hand and punched the hook at the chain's end into the solid black rock of the mountain wall. Then she began to swim upward, following the chain. She breached the surface--still clothed for once! her powers had protected her clothes too!--hacked up a couple of lungfuls of lava, and darted nimbly up the chain to dismount in front of the terrified nobles. "Ta-da!"

She glanced up at the cables the jade chain connected to. Thry were as insulated as the Dragon-Blooded could make them with scavenged Essence wiring. She could probably do better given some time, but things had gotten crunchy on that front. Unless a sandstorm blew them down, no one would get a shock, and then not for long.

"C'mon," she urged the nobles. "You've got to see this. You've gotta _feel_ this." Her first thought had been electric lighting, but with glowstones cheap and getting cheaper those were hardly necessary. No, she'd made something better, something they'd notice as soon as they entered the city. For her part, she could hear the hum already if she listened carefully.

In the sweltering heat of Descending Fire in the deep South, a new wind was blowing. In the city of Gem, the _fans_ were coming on.


	7. Depth of Field

The path into the jungle was well-marked, at least. For the time being Tara was able to walk on dirt. Her family hadn't tried very hard to teach her woodcraft, but inevitably she had picked a little up from her brothers. Soon she'd be clambering over the boles of trees. Perhaps it wasn't too late to learn a third version of the environmental-protection power, the one that'd keep her safe from plants and bugs.

Animals called from the treetops and from burrows in the forest floor and from everywhere in between. She might have time to hunt, to pick up some new shapes. A bird would be nice, and she wouldn't have to wind her way through the rain forest then. Catching one with just her current powers to work with could be a problem, though.

A colorful lizard darted up the nearest tree as she passed it. Watching carefully despite its blur of speed, she realized it had two heads. The Wyld taint here might prevent her from picking up useful shapes, as Fred had warned. In any case, now that she had the tattoos to protect her it was a good place to practice her powers. A python would be right at home in these trees.

She was just about to make the change when a voice called out, "Hiya!"

"Dawn? Should you be out here?" Shadow would kill her if she got Dawn hurt.

"Here is exactly where I should be," Dawn pointed out, "or deeper even. I don't want to end up like Glory, so I need to at least visit every so often."

"It still seems really strange that you're not afraid of her any more," Tara said. Glory had tried to bleed Dawn dry and destroy the world in the process just to get back to the Wyld.

"It's strange to me too," Dawn agreed, "at least to the part of me that still thinks like a human. And I do sorta want to be cautious around her. But she's different here. This her hasn't been through the stuff that made her crazy. And...also..." She hesitated, studying a frog hiding on tree bark. "In the Wyld, I can make my feelings change. I can kinda even change my whole personality if I take off my body." She gave a nervous giggle. "I could wave my hand and be Buffy's girlfriend instead of her sister."

"But you don't," Tara observed.

"I've been human too long," Dawn agreed. "It seems weird. But it gets less weird every day." She dissolved into mist.

"Dawn? Dawn, are you--?" Tara knew this was a thing spirits could do, but she wasn't any less used to thinking of Dawn as human.

Dawn reappeared at her side--at least, Tara thought she was Dawn. This new appearance resembled Dawn's older-looking "pride form", somewhat, but her skin was orange, her ears were pointed, and her hair was bright yellow fire. All her hair; she was naked and unconcerned. "I want to burn down the whole forest," she said.

Tara jumped. "Please don't, Dawnie."

"You could get to the volcano faster," Dawn argued.

"Dawn, if you want to help, help me navigate. Help me communicate with the things I find here." She put out her arms, pleading a little. "Don't start a forest fire."

"I don't like...." Dawn shook herself a little. "Okay, Tara. I like you more than I hate jungles."

Tara nodded. "Good. Thank you, Dawnie." What would she do if Dawn lost herself entirely? But at the same time, was it fair to expect Dawn not to be what she was?

*****

"Wham bam," Faith said contentedly. "Thank you ma'am!" Anja couldn't respond just yet while she changed back, so Faith leaned as far back as she could and scratched the itchy place on her second set of ribs. "That hit the spot."

"I should hope so," Anja said at last. "Sorry I couldn't be a...'centaur' for you, but I've never so much as seen one till you."

"'S ok," Faith said, trying to straighten her hair with her fingers. "I'm not big on cuddles, so you didn't need arms. Well...you coulda played with my tits, I guess, but I got what I needed. You?" She was trying to be a little more sensitive to her partners lately. It made Amy happy.

"It was exciting," Anja agreed. "I hope the maiden tea worked right, but honestly I don't think you can get pregnant in Creation like this anyway."

"Better not be able," Faith scoffed. "Been through that from the other end lately and it was no fun." She thumbed the bay door controls. "I'll be hella glad when I can get back to normal--I miss beds--but whoo boy this has it's points. Don't guess you know how to brush a horse, though."

"Of course I know how to brush a horse," Anja said grumpily. "My family had money when I was little. Might have to improvise, though. I don't think this place has seen a horse in centuries."

"Good point," Faith agreed. "I can...uh, hello!" She was inches away from a rather petite bronze-skinned woman in a tight top and bell-bottomed pants; a lot of the Tya wore something like that, but this woman didn't have tats. She'd come around the corner in utter silence. "Whatcha lookin for?"

"Faith Lehane," the woman said, "and from the looks of you I'd say I've found her. How is the new eye working out?"

"Sage? It's good. Sees fine, got over bein' disorientated in an hour or so." She paused. "Naw, I told you that. Which one're you? Kolohi? Renjin?" Lunars were confusing when they were being other people.

"None of the above," the woman answered. "I'm pleased to meet one of your potential, to have survived a trip into pure chaos--though not unscathed, it seems." She made a dismissing gesture at Anja, who nodded--just a touch formally--and hurried away. The woman tilted her head, glanced around, and finished, "My name is Leviathan."

**Chapter 64--Depth of Field**

"I am not here," Leviathan said carefully. "I've begun a new, rather difficult project, and it's best that none of the native Luthans, especially the Luthea, know of my continued presence unless we fight against a common foe. But Dreamer-of-Reason deserves to be able to contact me in time of need."

"Good of ya," Faith said, remembering what Fred had said about the way he'd treated these people. "But I ain't her."

"May we?" Leviathan said, and reopened the bay door without waiting for a response.

Faith shrugged. "A little smelly in there right now," she pointed out. "But we're five by five." She trotted back in and closed the door.

"In my day," Leviathan said without preamble, "only experienced Exalts entered the Wyld alone. Back then it was nearly all pure chaos, not layered as it is now. The Wyld damaged the Lunar Exaltations over the few hundred years we used it as a refuge, and warped the minds of many even after we devised the tattoos that protect our bodies. You have been farther out than many would dare to go, and returned recognizably human and apparently sane--though it seems you did so with raksha aid."

"They weren't all that friendly," Faith pointed out. "I had some lucky breaks."

"Luck is as malleable in the Wyld as all else," Leviathan said, sitting down cross-legged. "And I certainly do not fault you for accepting help, though the Fair Folk are far from reliable allies. The Silver Pact has made common cause with them as needed, in Halta and elsewhere. Other times they have betrayed us, or attacked on sight. They truly are creatures of chaos. Do you know of your previous incarnations, young Night?"

"Well...they told me a little about that goody-two-shoes Kendra," Faith said uneasily, "but I'm guessing you're asking more about Shadow's Grace. I remember more'n I want to of her."

"Shadow's Grace!" Leviathan grinned broadly. "Had there been more like you, much treachery might have been avoided." He sighed heavily. "The past is past. Still, I am no longer surprised you returned. She was one of exemplary virtue and yet had the skill of the aged."

"You're one of the really old ones," Faith said, not worried about insulting him. "You know how to change me back?"

"With Luthe's facilities, perhaps," Leviathan said thoughtfully, "and yet I think perhaps I should let this be an opportunity for your growth. I'm told you speak ill of yourself far too often. It will take skill to restore yourself, Faith Lehane. Develop it."

"Shit, dude, I can't go back like this an' I can't stay here! You don't get--"

Leviathan slammed a fist against the wall beside her head. She hadn't even seen him move. "I like you, young one. Don't change that. Why shouldn't you go back as you are, if you choose? What can stop you?"

What was the matter with this asshole? "They'd cut me open, you--"

"Cut a Solar open? Not unless you allow it, child of Night." Leviathan shook his head. "Learn your potential, girl. I will see you off when you go." He thumbed the door open and strolled casually away.

Faith took a few moments to relieve some tension before leaving. Her fists and hooves didn't make a mark on the pristine walls.

*****

"Tara was upset that you didn't come check on her," Fred said bluntly as they made their way to the conference room.

Willow shook her head vehemently. "I don't want to see her naked. I can't...I can't reciprocate yet."

Fred came to a halt and seized Willow by the shoulders. "What is the matter with you? She loves you. She wanted you there to support her and you didn't show."

Willow's dull black gaze turned toward her. "I'm not blind, Fred. I don't blame either of you, I know what I look like right now, but you could be honest about it."

Fred set her jaw. "If you're really not blind then how come you think we're doing anything? We've been avoiding each other as much as possible because I don't want to come between you two! I did her tattoos because the elders like Sage want to spend less time here and give me room to make my own way, they asked me to, and we _still_ didn't do anything else. Crap. Feathered One? I'm sorry. This is a personal matter between me and the Scholar." The frickin' ruler of Wavecrest had ducked around a corner to avoid an argument between Exalted. "If you'll wait in the meeting room for just a couple minutes I'll settle this and we'll be with you."

Willow sagged against the wall with a groan. "I'm sorry, Fred. These days I...I can't focus on anything. If it's not about my friends...and especially about Tara...it's just, um...'Bored now'. Even stuff like studying the Exaltations. I've gotten as far as I have because I _need_ to look like someone she can love."

Fred stepped forward and kissed her on the cheek. "You do. Now let's get negotiating about those First Age ships they have."

*****

"What's this about, Xan?" Faith stared in confusion at the half-disassembled skimmer on the floor.

"You ride a motorcycle, right? Ever worked on one?" Xander lifted the handlebars into position. "I was thinking you might like to modify this into something you could ride."

"Nah, I..." Faith hesitated. There was all kinds of stuff in the pile--outboards she could put her hooves on, safety harnesses that'd keep her from flying off, some sort of jets. It might be fun to work with. "No wheels?"

"I could hook you up with some, but I was thinking more along wave-riding lines. Wheels you'd have to use in the city. There's places though, if you wanna."

"I wanna." Faith hefted a rocket engine. "What's this thing run off? Generator? Natural gas? It's light."

"Pure magic energy," Xander explained. "Hard to find anything between that and muscle power round here."

"Yer joking." Faith studied the cylinders she was sure were some kind of power converter, cracked open an access hatch. "Crystals. You're not joking."

"Nope. Hey, you should see my pet project." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "No more hellmouth."

"Wait, what?" Faith hopped over the pile of parts. "Whaddya mean no more hellmouth?"

"I mentioned to Leviathan I was in construction. He asked if I wanted to learn what construction was like in his day." Xander led her around several workbenches to a table with a scale model. "I've been reading about what they call geomancy here. The hellmouth is an 'uncapped demesne'. Cap it, and no more wacky. Behold the new Sunnydale High!"

Faith studied the model, opening the panels. The corridors looped around several times, circling a huge central atrium below the library. What that meant, though, she had no idea. "If it works, I sure wouldn't complain. And it'd keep the demons away?"

"Not completely. But it wouldn't draw 'em like flies to honey." Xander replaced a section he'd lifted away. "It's still a work in progress."

"What's that thing?" Faith wondered, pointing at a washer-and-drier-size machine sitting partly disassembled between his project and the cycle.

"Complicated," Xander said, scratching his head uneasily. "Some kind of medical cocoon device. It's been outta commission a long time. I wouldn't mess with it. Could give you a fish tail."

"Uh-huh," Faith said. "Wouldn't want that. Well...back to work on the cycle."

"Good luck," Xander said.

Five minutes later, once Xander was off talking to his military command, Faith sidled back over to the medical device. "Hey, Towers?"

"Yes, Shadow's Grace?"

"Ya got a manual on this thing?"

*****

Tara slithered through the trees. It was easy. It was comfortable. It was natural. It was right.

"Keep trying," Dawn encouraged. "You can do it." Being trained by a raksha was none of those things, yet Dawn was correct. Tara should be able to speak to and understand anything that lived. It was a fairly simple thing to do, easier in some ways than the survival charms she'd already learned.

So far Tara hadn't got the hang of it. Maybe it was simple inexperience. Maybe it was the local Wyld taint. Or maybe it was the unsettling thought that if any living creature could converse with a Lunar then beast-people might be the result of consensual sex more often than not; did that make it ok? She suspected psychological hangups were keeping Faith from making herself smarter, so there was no reason the same logic shouldn't apply to her.

Fred had implied that her friends, and Leviathan, and even the Sage, who seemed uninterested in recreational sex, were very persistent in trying to persuade her to produce her own beastfolk to join the Deep Sages and Shadow Swimmers in Luthe. So far she'd put them off with the knowledge that she was carrying Leviathan's child, but that wouldn't last forever, and apparently Leviathan himself had suggested she go deposit some sperm in the local marine life; a half-caste child could handle a brief sojourn Elsewhere while her body was male. Perhaps it _wasn't_ morally wrong, but it would be a long time before either of them could contemplate the idea. Tara's father would have beaten her within an inch of her life for suggesting such a thing, which perversely was its main attraction. Tara's mother would've calmly suggested she was confusing metaphorical legends with literal reality. Though, of course, her mother had never been here to meet a Lunar.

"I know I can," Tara tried to say, but only hisses emerged from her mouth. She wanted to return to human form, but Dawn said she needed to get comfortable using the shapes she liked or needed, not the shape other people expected of her. Which was sensible, perhaps. And a little paradoxical. Dawn herself still walked through the rain forest in a body that seemed sculpted from fire, though she didn't actually burn anything.

The deeper they got into the Wyld zone the more creatures they saw with extra heads and the more heads they seemed to have. Beings that should have been nonviable from the weight alone apparently thrived here. How they made decisions, Tara didn't know.

Loud snarls emanated from the underbrush, followed by a small pack of three-headed wolves. "Cerberus," Dawn grumped, "and all his buds."

Tara began to back away; they were probably encroaching on the pack's territory. Dawn frowned at her in confusion. "Tara?"

"Dawn, let's...." Hissing. Useless. One of the wolves leapt at Dawn, and Tara launched herself forward to coil around it. It snarled and snapped at her but couldn't bend its necks around to bite properly. A second wolf joined in, digging each set of jaws into her sides. Tara squeezed with all her might, and the first wolf dropped twitching to the ground.

Dawn tried to lunge at the second wolf, drawing a shining, burning sword from nowhere, but more of the beasts surrounded her. She leapt up and managed to stab one through the eye, but only that head sagged. Tara began crushing the second wolf to death, but it was a slow maneuver, better suited to taking out lone prey.

Abruptly the third head on the left of the wolf she was squeezing spoke up. "If they'd just stay out of our territory we'd leave them alone. Damn humans think they can go where they please!"

"Well, now we're gonna be--" The first head cut off as Tara relaxed her grip.

"I'm sorry," she said. "If you'll let us withdraw we will. We do have to reach Hamoji, though. Can you tell us another way?"

"Back off, guys!" the middle head barked, and the other wolves retreated from around Dawn. "If you're telling the truth, we'll let you pass through as long as you stay away from our dens. But why you wanna go see him?"

"We need to find out why he's demanding so many sacrifices," Tara explained. "He's devouring the villages."

"Got ya," the third head said. "Right this way. We'll see you on your way,snake-lady. But no poaching!"

"You have my word," Tara said.

"I guess you got it working?" Dawn asked. "I didn't get any of that."

"It was very sudden," Tara said, following the wolves as they turned away. She hadn't felt as if she'd burned any energy. "I guess so."

*****

"So you come from the future?" Nelumbo said wonderingly.

" _A_ future," the Architect said carefully. "This world was already different when I arrived. But I know a version of you. She anchored herself near the Pole of Crystal centuries ago."

"It must be quiet," Nelumbo mused unhappily. The Architect sat there on the bed and shrugged. "Not many of us want to become metropoli, you know."

"There are over two dozen of you at the Pole," TARA explained. "There might be more in other parts of the Reaches that I don't know about. After the death of Creation, the population exploded. There are cities at every pole now, though naturally Crystal has fewest, and all of them Adamant Caste. Lenope hangs at the Pole of Lightning, Sively Loss floats in the Pole of Steam...it's the one thing Autochthon never seems to fail at even in his sleep, managing his greatest champions."

"And you?" Nelumbo struggled to imagine Autochthonia filled with thriving cities. "Do you plan to root down when the time comes?"

"I'm not yet fifty," the Architect said, "and I don't know how my construction will affect my metamorphosis, but yes, when I'm old enough. If we make it that long."

"I still don't understand exactly what's happening to your Autochthon," Nelumbo asked. "You clearly have enough po souls. Is it just the void cancer?"

TARA considered that while tugging at her hair. "No. There's an interconnected series of problems that's hard to explain. The new cities are vital to keeping the Maker in good repair, but they also drain a lot of energy. And then there's Ralacken. As far as we know, Herald of the Black Engine is the only gremlin city, but he's huge. A dozen crusades have failed to root him out of the Pole of Smoke."

"An entire Apostate city," Nelumbo said, disgust twisting her mouth.

"He and his gremlins seem to manifest in many forms and archetypes," TARA said, "most of which you wouldn't recognize. Borg, Terminators, Decepticons, Matrix hunter-killers....that's part of why we're not sure there's really just one. We know he wants to destroy the Maker, and we suspect he's made contact with the Viator, but no one really understands his _immediate_ goals."

"What about us? What's our endgame?"

"I've located the egg of an Autochthonian behemoth in this frame," the Architect said. "I can use it to track down the creature in ours. It was made to re-link Autochthon and the Essence flows from beyond him, from the Wyld and from what remains of Zen-Mu. If it fails, we do have one final contingency to preserve existence. When you metamorphosed, you implanted a kill switch in the Core. If all else fails us, Thanel will execute the Maker's fetich before he dies."

Nelumbo felt her eyes widen in horror, but she answered dispassionately. "Better a Yozi than a Neverborn. Hopefully one who isn't sick."

TARA nodded solemnly. "Yes."

*****

"Should she be working on that thingy?" Shadow murmured. Faith's entire upper torso had been engulfed by the ancient medical device she was tinkering with.

"Yup," Fred said, smiling. "We've finally found something she doesn't think of as so intellectual she can't handle it: mechanical work." The machine jumped a little, and Faith started cursing about her head, but she stayed inside.

"Now carefully detach the transtator core," Towers of Azure monologued. "Its vital programming has been corrupted. Attempting to use the device in its current state would resemble concentrated Wyld exposure."

"Don't want that," Shadow said, still whispering. "What do we do if she actually fixes it?"

"We let her use it," Fred said firmly. "We let any adult who understands what they're doing use it, so long as it can hold up. We want to restore any and all First Age technologies that aren't destructive or require Celestial Exalted or limited resources for day-to-day needs."

Shadow turned a worried frown to her. "I just worry that...what happens if people can change their shape all willy-nilly?"

"I can," Fred said. "Why hoard that to just me? The Scholar's got one thing right: a lot of the problems we cause come from being too far above other people. I'm not sure making a gajillion more Exaltations is a viable solution,but I see where she's coming from."

"Well, where do I get one?" Faith growled in response to something they'd missed.

"There are no functional transtator cores aboard Luthe," Towers said. "One must be constructor constricted constructicated deconstructed...pardon, Shadow's Grace. One must be constructed from crystallized moonsilver imbued with an intemperate heart and the essence of anentropy."

Faith's curses were much louder and more elaborate this time, though Shadow couldn't make out what she was going on about. "Move," Fred whispered, and they ducked out of sight just before Faith emerged from the machine. The disgruntled centaur looked around suspiciously before trotting off.

"Think she can figure it out?" Shadow wondered.

"I'd bet on her any day."

*****

"Could have been worse," Dawn said as they spiraled up the mountain.

"Mmph." Tara was glad for the wolves' help, but they'd eaten way too many other talking creatures for her to really feel comfortable. Maybe she wasn't cut out for talking to animals. "Those birds were...confusing."

"I think they were grelidaka," Dawn said. "They reproduce by splitting in two, but the local conditions got them...mixed up?"

"They looked like some sort of colonial organism," Tara said, "only they could still fly. It was extremely creepy."

They passed a final waystation, a wooden cabin built for the priestesses' convenience. For the moment it was unoccupied, largely because the priestesses were out searching the villages for acceptable sacrifices.

Then out onto black stone like cables coiled under their feet. Thick multicolored smoke hung in the sky over the volcano, though at the moment nothing seemed to be emerging. That could change any moment, though. The Wyld was stronger here.

Tara looked down into the caldera. Bubbling blue rock filled it. Heat rolled off it in waves, so it wasn't some strange thick water--just oddly colored. She could handle that. She took three steps down and set foot on the surface that should have burned her to ash in seconds. "Hamoji? I come to speak to you." Dawn climbed down behind her.

A babble of voices rose from the lava. "An Exalt?" "Speak to us?" "Food for us?" "Sacrifices?" "Where where?" The molten rock parted, and a creature boiled up from the depths, a thing that might have been human if it didn't glow with heat, if its flesh were solid...if it didn't have a baker's dozen heads. All clamoring for food.

"Can we eats it?" Dawn quoted softly. "Wouldn't make above a mouthful."

"You be quiet," Tara said, giving a quick wink to show she wasn't angry. She couldn't have Dawn telling this thing they were burrahobbits, though. "Hamoji? Maybe we can help you."

"Hungry," "Hungry," "So hungry," the many heads of Hamoji said, and he reached down to seize them in his arms.


	8. Blood-Dimmed Tide

"Anentropy," Faith said slowly.

"Anentropy," Fred repeated. "What do you wanna know about it?"

"What is it?"

"Um...it's the opposite of entropy." Faith worked her mouth as if grinding her teeth, so Fred hurried on. "Entropy's a way of measuring disorder. It's more complicated than that...um...something with really low entropy can behave in strange ways like...like flowing up and over obstacles. Liquid helium does that."

Faith leaned forward suddenly; the motion was nearly a lunge. "Liquid helium has really low entropy? How do I get some?"

Fred tried not to stare. Or crack jokes. Faith looked ready to kill over this--not angry, though, just desperate. It had to do with fixing that cocoon device, the one that might cure her. "Well...on Earth you mostly get it from natural gas deposits. I...guess you might find one on an island, but gas deposits tend to be pretty deep. You can make it with nuclear fusion. You can find it in our sun...maybe this sun too. And I guess you can find anything in the Wyld."

Faith sagged. "Fuck. I ain't going back into the Wyld and I'm sure as hell not tryin' to get it from the sun. This city run on fusion power?"

"I've been working on a backup," Fred explained carefully. "But not yet. There are some kinks I gotta work out."

"Shit. How do I find natural gas?" Faith looked ready to start hitting something from pure exasperation.

"We can consult Towers and check the maps. The seabed's more likely than an island." Faith wasn't gonna like that.

"You gonna get it for me? I sure as hell don't fit in SCUBA gear." Faith waved back at her hindquarters.

"Faith, I promise you won't need SCUBA gear. Ask around. If Buffy were here you wouldn't need anything, but this used to be the HQ of the entire navy." Fred tried a comforting smile, but Faith was too on edge. "I bet we have a hearthstone you can use."

"To breathe underwater? I ain't a California girl, Fred, but I guess I'll try it." Faith turned and started to trot away, her tail flicking irritably.

"How're you gonna liquify it, Faith? It's no good as a gas." Faith turned at the waist with a groan. "It only liquefies at nearly absolute zero."

"Jesus Christ! Maybe I'll try something else. What else can I get for this anentropy thing?"

Fred spread her hands. "I couldn't tell you. And anyway, these components are always hard to get. It's part of the process. Just be glad you don't have to build your cure from scratch."

"Damn it, Fred, I'm just about ready to give up and spend my life as a centaur. This is ridiculous." She stamped her back hooves on the deck. "God damn it! You know why I don't? Nearest head I can use is halfway across town. I gotta go take a piss. We're not done, Four-Eyes. Not near done."

Fred nodded. "I promise we'll get you fixed up, Faith. Hang in there."

Faith snorted and galloped off.

**Chapter 65: Blood-Dimmed Tide**

Xander swung Wavecleaver in a shining arc, severing three or four zombie heads with each blow. He was really coming into his own. Standing there on the gore-stained deck as essence-cannon fire bloomed around him, he was the perfect shining image of a Solar hero...and a perfect distraction.

These skirmishes happened daily, and rumor had it that the fleet had been joined by another Solar--one on the Silver Prince's side. Willow clambered out of the netting with several zombies that had been swept overboard. Out here, far from Skullstone and fighting a running battle, such ordinarily cheap casualties cost dearly.

Willow shambled across the deck as if heading for a preprogrammed duty station. Then, hidden behind a bank of cannon and boarding hooks, she pried open a hatch and scurried inside.

The first room was a holding area for off-duty zombies, currently empty; all the walking dead were currently manning simple duty stations or being prepped for a boarding operation. Across from it was the first of several simple crew bunks for the mostly-living, likewise empty. Willow abandoned the shambling stance and the ragged shirt she wore to hide the soulsteel bustier Tara had taken from Ebon Siaka. Somewhere down this U-shaped corridor, probably all the way in front--yeah, there was the captain's cabin, with a simple palm-scanner that no doubt held the locals in awe. Willow focused her gaze on it, and black lightning burned it out in an instant. The door popped open. "Needs to read the Evil Overlord list," she whispered to herself, and stepped inside.

The cabin's arrangements were spare but meticulous, which was no surprise; a new commander had just taken over. The hatch directly overhead that led to the bridge was no surprise; it meant the admiral could be wakened and on duty at a moment's notice.

The surprise came when the hatch burst open and a pirate with an eyepatch dropped to a crouch in front of her, sword already drawn. "Traitor...or intruder, at least. I'll have you keelhauled for the glory of the Sun and the Silver Prince," the pirate growled. "You face Moray Darktide now."

*****

Tara rolled sideways, evading Hamoji's grasp. The obviously deranged volcano god groaned piteously, clutched his stomach for a moment, and grabbed for her again. Thirteen mouths, each of them craving its own food, and possibly thirteen brains dividing up his thoughts--it was no wonder he wasn't being satisfied by the offerings he was getting.

She'd prepared to fight demons and the undead. Gods, though, she was at a disadvantage against. "Dawn! You said you could manipulate reality here?"

"It's a Wyld pocket," Dawn agreed, scrambling out of Hamoji's reach. "Going directly against its theme won't be easy, though."

"Don't," Tara warned. "Try and counter it some other way."

Dawn lifted her hands, and walls sprang from the blue lava, still bubbling. They were solid, though; Hamoji's hands pressed against them futilely.

"What can you do here?" Tara wondered. The Wyld was hidden away from the world she knew, sealed off somehow. Even Creation limited the raksha somewhat. But supposedly this...place was the raksha's playground.

Dawn stopped still, right next to the wall, and ran her fingers through the flames of her hair. Hamoji beat helplessly on the wall. "Um," Dawn said. "It seems like...anything."

Tara blinked. "Anything?"

"I can't change your body because of your tattoos," Dawn said. "And I think you can ignore what I do by...well, concentrating. Hamoji's too hungry to think straight, so he's stuck. It'd be hard to change this place's theme, but I think I could do it if I tried."

"Wait," Tara asked. "You could change me if not for my tattoos? What about Faith?"

"She wouldn't come out here with me. I'm not sure she's wrong. You know she made me her hostage, right?" Dawn stretched herself like a cat. "I told her I wasn't mad, but I could change my mind." Dawn's body shifted and shimmered, and suddenly she was a centaur herself, with a tail and mane of flames and little dancing fires that rippled across her lower body. "Nice. Out here I could turn her into anything. I could make her do what I wanted, even kill herself. Well...that'd be hard." Dawn returned her legs to normal. "She's got some resistance now."

Tara's viewpoint began to shift around. Looking down, she saw that she'd begun to dance. "Dawn?"

"Huh. I can still change what you do." Dawn did a little pirouette.

Before Dawn could join in, Tara forced her legs to stop moving. "That's not very nice, Dawn." She was just experimenting, but Tara couldn't let her get into the habit of controlling people. " _Can_ you make his extra heads go away?"

Dawn considered that. "Probably." Dawn's own head became fuzzy, smoothing into a featureless blur, and retracted into her, leaving a smooth patch of skin in place of her neck. "Yeah, think so." Not having a mouth didn't impair her speech in the slightest. Two heads sprouted in the first one's place. "Oops. Easier making more than less. And Tara, it won't last if he stays here."

"Can you change the crater to something that won't cause problems like this?" If Dawn was serious, she ought to be able to make this place into anything, or nearly so.

"As long as no other raksha are keeping it this way, I think so. But it'll change again, in the long run anyway." Dawn raised her hands, and the walls of lava melted, shifted, and began to multiply. "Watch this."

The bubbling lava walls reached the crater's solid rock and reshaped the area into multiple rooms, even as the floor began to rise. School desks emerged from the lava and blackboards melted out of the walls. Still the floor rose, and an office shaped itself from the room they occupied. A nameplate formed itself on the desk: "Principal Hamoji".

Hamoji's form was suddenly clad in a suit formed from friable black rock,cracking here and there to reveal the heat within. His heads melted and merged, though several of the mouths tried to form protests. Finally the scene solidified, and all was still.

"There," Dawn said. "That should last a little while."

"Hamoji," Tara asked tentatively, "do you feel better now?"

"I...I feel very strange," the deity said. "Should I have...students?"

Tara shot Dawn a baffled look. "Your students and teachers should make their way to you soon," Dawn explained. "All the creatures of the island want to learn from you."

"People?" Tara mouthed.

"Oh," Dawn said softly. "Only if they're in the Wyld places. Priestesses, probably. But that's okay, right?"

Tara thought that over. "I guess. Just try to be careful, Dawnie. You don't want to change people if you can help it, not unless they ask."

Dawn put a lock of hair--or was that a tongue of flame?--in her mouth. "Um. I guess not."

Tara wished Dawn sounded more confident about that.

*****

Shadow sped quietly away from Luthe. The little skiff left a wake of dead and dying seaweed which Faith watched anxiously. "You know this stuff is spreading, B2?"

"I know." Shadow acknowledged the problem with an uneasy hunch of her shoulders. "I'm causing it. I'm not sure how to stop it without going away and killing things. Well...me and Will. I kinda wish I'd told Owl and the Heron no."

"It's screwed up, B2. You're the heroes and I'm the villain. How come you get stuck with this?" Faith clopped around the deck. She didn't have a safety harness, but then, she didn't really need one, even with hooves.

Shadow laughed bitterly at that. "I know. I'm an Infernal _and_ an Abyssal now. But I know why now. I'm not a hero, Faith."

"Shit, B, how many times you save the world now?" Faith's hand came down on her shoulder.

"Merrick told me I was the only one who could, and I told him where he could stick it, Faith. Don't get me wrong, I went on and did it anyway, over and over again. And it was a trick, did you know that?" Shadow reached up and put her hand on top of Faith's.

"Huh?"

"He knew how I'd answer. I didn't have the power yet. He could've told me, 'A bunch of people are really subhuman monsters and the world needs an exterminator,' or...or 'You can have the power to do anything you want if you'll kill this one little thing for me.' He had to set me one of those test of character bits, so I could fail it. He told me I had a responsibility because he knew I was irresponsible." She locked in the autopilot and turned around to face Faith. "And if I'd said yes, there weren't any loose Solar Exaltations around, so I'd have died and someone else would've been the Slayer, so who knows what would've happened? I'm done worrying over this fish-kill thing. I just have to fix it. It's what we do. We _become_ heroes. We meaning Exalted, not just Buffy."

"I haven't fixed anything," Faith muttered.

"That's a lie," Shadow told her. "The first thing you did when we met was tell me all about the things you'd fixed. And later...you tried to steal my life, Faith. My life, the Chosen One's life. And you got exactly what you were bargaining for because you couldn't stay away from stuff that needed fixing. You're a Solar, Faith. You're the Night." She studied the console and flipped a switch. Music blasted out of the speakers. Shadow couldn't follow the lyrics yet, but it was obviously made to dance to. "So come on. Let's party while we can."

"B," Faith said--actually blushing a little!--"This body ain't built for dancing."

"Here's a secret, Faith: it's also not built to go toe-to-toe with pro wrestlers. But you can. We can."

Faith raised her eyebrows at that. She put her hands up. And she danced.

*****

"I'm not here to fight you," Willow said. At least keeping a straight face was easy when said face was dehydrated past the point of expression. "I call myself the Pilgrim Through the Endless Void, and I'm here as tech support."

"I've never heard of you, 'Pilgrim'," Moray Darktide snarled. "I see you've drawn the Last Breath, but you might have come from the Bishop, or the Mask of Winters."

"From what I hear you didn't know about the Black Fleet either," Willow bluffed. "I do. I know my way around this technology." She hadn't studied these particular ships, and that might bite her on the hinie, but she understood Luthe's pretty well. Moray was known as the Prince's second best admiral, but he hadn't been with this fleet till Ebon Siaka died, and he was a Solar. The Silver Prince probably hadn't fully trusted him.

"If you're so good at it, help me blow this Roberts off my deck, and I'll accept your word." Moray was also known for being honorable to a fault.

Fortunately they'd planned for this. "I'll go roast him for you," Willow agreed. She popped up through the hatch into the bridge. Xander was striding through the fray, cracking jokes left and right while Scoobies made of sunfire burned zombies and ghosts. Willow stepped outside the cabin and lifted her hands.

Black lightning shot from them and crackled around Wavecleaver as Xander brandished it at her. She wanted to quote Palpatine, but "If you will not be turned..." didn't make any sense here. Had he said anything else apropos?

"You know I'm sorry it came to this, Will. I thought a _scholar_ ship would have been a good thing for you." He dramatically pointed the daiklaive at her, and a shining image of Tara hurled a fireball her way. It burned her left hand away, but skeletal fingers emerged from her sleeve at once before covering themselves in dry blackened flesh.

"Using Tara against me? That's a cheap shot, Xander!" He might not have meant to, but she really was a little miffed. She gestured with the freshly-regenerated hand, giving a canvas that had been covering some drums--oil? ammunition?--a telekinetic flick. Xander swung Wavecleaver at it, but air currents shoved the open canvas wildly around. His blade slashed it open, but it wrapped around him anyway and sent him sprawling off the deck.

Willow ran over to take a look. Still tangled, Xander flailed about in the ocean. His hearthstone ensured he wouldn't drown, but he was an easy target. More bolts shot from her eyes, probably hurting him a little but incidentally spinning him loose from the canvas. At once he dove beneath the sea.

A pair of spectres began to follow, but Darktide called out "Hold!", and they held. "I'd have preferred his capture, but at least he'll have to swim back to his skirmish boats. You know each other."

"We were friends once," Willow explained, "but he doesn't believe me when I say the living and the dead can work together. He hates all undead."

She felt a tiny tingle. "You speak true," Moray said.

"You could've just done that when I said I was here to help," Willow protested mildly, as Xander's battle group began to withdraw.

"I could have, but I did need some assistance with Roberts." Moray began to wipe down his blade. "I brought down two birds with a single stone this way. How did you come here?"

"I'm a sorceror," Willow explained. "I know how to teleport. I left my boat, but it probably got sunk." Since she had deliberately holed it before leaving.

"We'll keep an eye out," Moray said agreeably. "How fares the New Order on Skullstone?"

Great. Now to really break out the bullshit.

*****

Faith sank. And sank. And sank some more. "These hearthstone bracers are the shit, B2."

"It's not the bracers so much as the stone, Faith," Shadow explained. "At the place it came from you could just attune to the stone itself--only who knows where it came from." Currents swirled them around through the black water. "Watch out for the hydrothermal vents. They're gonna be hot."

"What's the plan again?" Faith trusted Shadow pretty far, but she wasn't sure she understood how they were extracting helium here at the bottom of the ocean.

"Supposedly there's a First Age mining outpost down here." The currents tried to flip her over, and Faith had to hold her steady. "Fred said Leviathan was kind of closed-mouthed about it, but it was run by people who'd been engineered to breathe water."

"Freaky," Faith started, just as something scaly loomed out of the water and slammed into Shadow, closing its monstrous jaws around her waist. Faith lashed out, grabbing for a hold on the creature, and caught a flipper. They weren't the only ones here! Some sort of rigging lashed onto its back held people dressed in minimal clothing but lots of bling.

A cheer rose up from them, but Faith couldn't make out a word of it. The water garbled the words, but more than that, they didn't seem to be speaking any language she knew. Some of the people were half-shark, like in Luthe, and one of them let go of the rigging to lunge at her. Faith shoved her dagger through his right eye and into his brain. There were too many of them to just bruise them up; it was her life, and Shadow's, at stake.

The monster they were riding convulsed and vomited, losing its grip on Shadow. She hung limp for a moment, but only long enough for the currents to toss her back into the pirates. Then she was on them, stakes darting through the water and turning it black with blood.

 _Looks like the Sea People are still here,_ Shadow said in Faith's head. _Did you hear them say "Jalarin"?_

 _I'll take your word for it,_ Faith thought back. Shadow sounded as if she were screaming, but it wasn't the volume. It just made her head hurt, and she really didn't need that with four--no, five--more sharkpeople coming at her.

 _Jalarin is supposed to have owned the outpost,_ Shadow said. _It's one of their cities. I don't know anything else about it, though._

Whatever the beast was that had bitten Shadow, she hadn't killed it. The scaled monster lunged for Faith, who managed, barely, to dodge above those nasty jaws. She reached out as they snapped shut on the empty water and wrapped her arms around them. Like a croc, it didn't seem to have nearly the muscle power for opening that it did for closing, but it was still forty feet long with a jaw in proportion; she could barely keep her hold. She swung her horse body down as low as it would go and drove a powerful kick into each eye with her back legs. Goo covered her hooves, and the monster thrashed about in agony, sending everyone she could see sailing off.

 _Where the fuck is that outpost, B2?_ Faith swung her fists down to brain the nearest enemy.

 _Still straight down, the best I can figure,_ Shadow answered. She'd gotten herself stuck grappling with a sharkwoman. Finally she managed to wrestle an arm free and jam a stake into its throat. _Though I might've gotten a little turned around._

Faith tried to orient herself by the weight of her lower body, but that was useless. She tried searching for the glimmer of light from the surface, and even that failed until she brought her enhanced vision to bear on the problem. She pointed down, smacked a couple of heads together, and broke away in that direction.

Shadow managed to follow a few moments later, but even as she started down Faith felt the water surge around her with a force that made the monster they'd already faced look pathetic. Only the turbulence prevented her from slamming into a wall of rubbery flesh, a great black and white monstrosity of a whale. Orcas were big, but this thing might as well have been Moby Dick.

 _I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN,_ the giant said, though Faith had no idea how it was conveying such a message. _HERE YOU ARE AGAIN TO DISRUPT MY WORK._

 _And you'd have gotten away with it,_ Shadow sent to Faith and the whale too, _if not for us meddling kids._

Faith made a throat-cutting motion at her. Trusting it could understand her as well as she understood it, she spoke out loud. "I wasn't lookin' for you, I was lookin' for helium. Had no idea you were here or what you were doin', but I'm tryin' to solve my own problems like you wanted. If you don't want us here we'll go."

 _YOU WILL FIND THAT DIFFICULT,_ Leviathan boomed. _THE PIRATES OF JALARIN SHOW NO MERCY._

"Yeah, well, you seem buddy-buddy with 'em," Faith said. There was not antagonizing a guy who could swat you like a bug, and then there was cringing. Nobody ever accused her of the latter. "I bet if you say the word they'll let us go."

 _NOT EVEN I CAN SO CASUALLY COMMAND THE TALEBOUND,_ Leviathan rumbled. _BUT IT CAN BE DONE. HELIUM? ALL YOU WANT IS HELIUM?_

"That's the sitch," Faith agreed. "Get us that and we're five by five. I need it for repairs."

Laughter shook the ocean like a tidal wave. _YOU HAVE SURELY TAKEN THE MOST DIFFICULT ROUTE, LITTLE NIGHT. I WILL TRY NOT TO DISAPPOINT YOU._.

*****

Willow emerged from under the console. "Just some shorted-out wires," she said. "You really don't know how to fix any of this?".

"The Silver Prince did not even tell me this fleet existed until he had no choice," Moray said, mouth twisted and tone wry. "He favors Deathknights above me, though surely he must understand that we are merely sides of a coin. As we Lawgivers rule the living by day, so the Deathknights govern the dead by night. There is no reason we should fight."

"I won't argue that," Willow said. It sounded like it ought to be true, but there was plainly something wrong with her and with Shadow. "I was wondering, though. This is a heckuva lot of soulsteel. Everything that can be is. Where does it all come from?"

"A hekatonchiere," Moray said without any real concern. "The behemoths of the dead are often vast beyond measure. I have heard that the Lintha once lived on a living island behemoth that once rivaled the Blessed Isle, and now it is dead. Good riddance."

Willow slid back under the console to replace some of the wires. "I'm guessing you and the Lintha aren't exactly of the friendly persuasion."

"Hardly. Even their ghosts hate and fear ours." Moray sounded disgusted at the thought.

"You know, we've been seeing Lintha and Skullstone fleets working together?" Willow followed the cables to the socket and swapped them out.

"Ebon Siaka's vile plan," Moray grumbled. "I don't care if she did mean to betray them in two months. If she hadn't proposed smelting their entire race for more soulsteel, I'd have refused the entire ploy. As it is, it's far from honorable."

"You'd rather just fight them."

"Naturally. If you must destroy an enemy, let it be in open combat." His face appeared below the console. "We need the material, though. I can only imagine the Silver Prince didn't realize there was a First Age city below the waves."

"He's clearly not all-knowing," Willow agreed. "Even though I don't see anything wrong with his philosophy, I kinda doubt _him_ sometimes. You follow me?"

"I follow the Silver Prince," Moray demurred, taking her hand and helping her slide out. "But I understand you better since Ebon Siaka's death. I warned her to take more care of sorcerors, but she scoffed at me. I did not reckon with the vast force she commanded and must have put her faith in, since he had not revealed it to me. The Prince errs rarely, but he is, as you say, not beyond failure."

"Do you know how she died?" Willow wondered. Hopefully Tara was off the hook.

"Only that some sorceror reshaped her into an animal and slew her in that form. She was arrogant, but I had hopes for her to die better than that, at least. She served the Silver Prince."

"Powering up," Willow said, and mashed the "on" glyph. Lights flickered on all over the room. "Looks like we're good. I'm sorry she died, if only for her loss to the cause."

Moray Darktide shrugged. "I'm not sure she was that much of a loss."

*****

"So. You got a name?" Faith had been shuffling around the ancient mining facility for what seemed like hours, guarded by a single sharkman. Leviathan had to know this one guy could never stop them. It had to be for show.

The sharkman shrugged. She'd asked him several times before and gotten no response; she just didn't speak his language.

B2 sighed and pointed to herself. "Unconquerable Shadow," she said.

Faith rolled her eyes. Even if he got it this wasn't going to be much of a conversation. "Faith Lehane," she said anyway, and pointed to the sharkdude.

His eyes narrowed in comprehension. "Hak tkcha groot," he said.

B2 began to snicker. "Hak?" she said, pointing at him again.

The sharkguy shook his head. "Groot," he repeated.

Shadow broke down in uncontrollable laughter. Faith tapped her on the shoulder, but she just kept giggling. "Shadow," she said urgently.

At that moment, Leviathan strode in. He was wearing his true human form, not the sailor's body she had seen him in back on Luthe. "Ah," he said. "Thank you."

"Thank you?" Faith asked.

"The Talebound are extraordinarily difficult to break from the Wyld, but it can be done," Leviathan explained. "One need only make them care about something beside their story. In general that requires powerful magicks. Groot here is free, but the more he feels--"

"Groot," B2 said again, all but rolling on the floor. Leviathan gave her an unappreciative glare.

"--the more he feels outside his story, the less he risks relapsing. The Jalarinites deserve better; they were once among the Wyld's greatest foes. What is her problem?"

Faith shrugged and gave B2 a front-leg kick in the ass. "Comic book," Shadow managed to wheeze. "'I am Groot.'"

"It's another story," Faith said. "Prolly one she didn't expect to find here."

Leviathan growled under his breath. "Jalarin is only the beginning. I have but little time. Luthe is not the only city to have sunk beneath the waves, and I would prefer to have allies at my side when I breach the Underworld, if only to expedite the evacuation. Even mortals can aid with that."

"Who else is down here?" Shadow asked.

Levi stared flatly at her. "It does not matter. None remember, and I think only I have discovered them. In my madness I did not care; they too were Traitorspawn. But time grows short if Creation is to be saved, and they are among its greatest survivors."

"Sure you couldn't use real help?" Faith wondered.

"I need only warm bodies to move the people along," Levi insisted. "The rest will be a trivial matter." He produced a compressed gas cylinder as long as his arm and bigger around. "Here," he said. "It is not liquified; I shall leave that to you. But you have come this far. You do well. Though I would have thought you would seek out the Daystar."

Faith shrugged. "Not big on getting close to the fire."

She wasn't sure why that made Leviathan laugh.

*****

"Truly?" The Feathered One raised both eyebrows at the raksha and her Lunar companions.

"The Wyld had him messed up," the raksha said. "I helped Tara fix him."

"I didn't do much," the long-haired girl said, blushing. "Dawn did the heavy lifting."

"It's done," the queen disagreed, "and you carried it out. You made an alliance with a raksha, and that's not easy."

Tara stared at her. "Fred, this is Dawnie. She's not like other...." The girl trailed off, glancing at the fiery raksha. Dawn just looked back at her, expression neutral. "How much do you remember, Dawn? You're still Dawn...aren't you?"

Dawn sat there as if in thought. "You're still Tara," she said at last. "How much do you remember about Ma-ha-suchi?"

Tara shivered visibly, as if she remembered something she would very much have preferred not to, but she said, "Remembering him doesn't make me him."

"Then remembering the thought of Ea Gso doesn't make me an Unshaped," the raksha said as if that explained everything.

The Feathered One cut into the uncomfortable silence that followed. "By the terms I set, we have...an alliance," he said slowly. "Guard our shores, and you may take our ancient craft to repair. I will try to find you crewmen for them...but you must know many do not trust you. Some still fear for my life. Others no doubt would slay me for speaking to you, let alone making a pact."

"Anya will be working on that," the queen said. "Old fears are...um, something you've gotta get over if you want to see the future. Okay?"

The Feathered One knew this response should not have filled him with confidence...and yet somehow it did. Was this what it meant to be ensnared by the Anathema?

"Next stop," Tara said, "the Neck. I'm thinking it'll make this look like a cakewalk."

The Feathered One could only nod solemnly to that.


	9. The Ceremony of Innocence

The first thing Scarlet Whisper noticed was the noise. It wasn't all that loud, but it was all-pervasive, like a swarm of bees invisibly surrounding her. Then she caught the breeze. The wind was hot and dry, the breath of the last days of Descending Fire, but it dried her sweat and carried away a little of the heat with it. Paragon rarely had such breezes in the heat of summer; Gem never, surely.

She came around a corner and saw it: set in a rounded gap hewn into the mountains, a grey circular blur. For several moments she struggled to understand what she was seeing. An elemental of some sort?

"Hell," Charles Gunn said, "wouldja look at that? She made a fan."

"It's immense," Wesley said. "The labor alone--"

"A fan," Scarlet Whisper said, understanding. She had only seen hand fans and the like, but she understood the principle. This huge rotating thing was creating the breeze. And though it was crude even by Realm standards, she was certain only the Exalted could have organized the creation of such a large construct. "Buffy Summers? She made this?"

"Seems like her style," Cordelia said, "and I know style."

Smaller fans soon came into view as they made their way into the city, set into roofs and walls, channeling and enhancing the wind as if trying to cool every corner of the city. "I admit she seems to be trying to do well by her city and people. I don't understand why you were so alarmed, Rupert Giles."

Giles considered the view and his words. "It is a violation of our people's traditions to seize power by force. A Slayer has the ability to do so more easily than most people, and so we have trained them not to."

"Hmm." Scarlet Whisper mulled that over. "If the people are satisfied and the ruler just, the wisdom of that is obvious. But the Despot was so named because their rule has usually been tyrannical, and while Rankar was not the worst, he was far from benevolent. Is overthrowing such a ruler evil in your eyes?"

"No," Wesley said with a look at his elder. "Not always. We ourselves helped depose Richard Wilkins. Admittedly, he was far above the usual run of tyrant, but perhaps such an action is not so far out of her character."

"Sometimes lopping off the top just nets you a new top," Gunn argued, "and sometimes it makes a mess. It takes skill and a whole lotta good luck to improve things."

Scarlet Whisper gestured at the people around them, who certainly seemed more prosperous and contented than at her last visit. "True. But the Exalted generally have these things. See for yourself."

Giles adjusted his glasses. "I see your point. And yet Buffy had hoped to return with us to our own world."

"Without a successor, surely that would be by far the less responsible thing to do now," Scarlet Whisper suggested. What was wrong with these people? "At bare minimum she ought to set up a line of succession."

"There are complicating factors, but we are endeavoring to do that," Giles explained. What possible...well, no, they had mentioned that prophecy, however unlikely it sounded. That was perhaps reason enough.

She studied the people as she walked. Their happiness was largely genuine, though some were still justifiably envious. Their world was improving. Disgruntled nobles passed by on their way from the palace, but then nobles rarely saw eye to eye with commoners.

Parts of the palace were under renovation. Scarlet Whisper noted approvingly that while some of the most wasteful design elements were being altered, the palace would still be nearly as magnificent as before. Reformers made that mistake too often and were ousted as weak.

Trumpeters announced her as an agent of the Perfect. Very few knew she was a Solar herself. She strode up a ramp lined with guards, the last few outcaste Dragon-Blooded, and into an anteroom. From here she could see an audience chamber with a particularly fancy brass-and-basalt throne, and seated in it, a pale-skinned woman no older than herself. _This_ was the Anathema who had conquered Gem?

*****

"She's supposed to be close to my age," Buffy said as she dressed hastily.

"She hasn't made a habit of military conquest," Iron Siaka said, "but she has the full trust of the Perfect of Paragon. There's more than one road to power."

"You should know," said Throne-Buffy, who had been ruling in Buffy-Prime's absence. "You're the power behind Scarlet. Too bad she's gone with the wind."

Party-Buffy came rushing in at that moment. "Sorry I'm late. Needed a little hair of the dog."

Buffy-Prime shook her head and tsked. "Gonna make me all drunk for the diplomacy thing?"

"Just a little buzzed," Party-Buffy said hastily. "Be glad it's dog and not qat, okay?"

"You're incorrigible," Throne-Buffy said.

"Hey, I _exist_ to be incorrigible. Means I'm doing my job." Party-Buffy winked at Iron Siaka, who wearily shook her head.

"I'm in a relationship," she insisted. "Now get your heads together."

Buffy-Prime took the other's hands. She blew out a long breath, then inhaled as deeply as she could. The other Buffys came apart in streamers of color and dust and flowed into her. Memories of tedium surged through her, but also success--and then a wave of sated relaxation: party after party, drugs, booze, lots and lots of sex. "Woof. That was...nifty." Iron Siaka frowned. "I know, I know--audience time "

Buffy touched the tiara that had materialized on her brow, then strolled casually into the front hall and sat herself down in the throne. She'd managed to get Rankar's gaudy hunk of gold and gems replaced with something more understated in her absence.

The girl who strode in ahead of Giles, Wes, Cordy, and Gunn was no more than a few years older than Buffy; she had red hair and more freckles than Willow. She exuded a confidence that Buffy could only envy, though. She looked born to be a leader. "Despot Summers," she said, the first time anyone had addressed her that way. "I am Scarlet Whisper, ambassador from Paragon. Before you took power, we were planning an offensive against Gem. I'm here to see if that course of action is still necessary. As a gesture of good faith, I've brought these friends of yours safely to you."

Buffy couldn't resist a wide grin at the site of Giles, and the others--even Wes--weren't exactly unwelcome either. She started to hop down off the throne, thought better of it, and beckoned the others forward. She gave Giles and Cordelia quick hugs, then shook hands with Wes and Gunn. Even that was enough to set the court whispering, but as of right now, she didn't care.

"Thank you, ambassador. Welcome to the court of Gem. I offer you my hospitality; make yourself at home."

Iron Siaka and Scarlet Whisper eyed each other like strange cats. Surely the ambassador didn't know what Siaka was. But then, what was Whisper? Buffy could sense the aura of power that surrounded her, and not a whole lot more.

"This audience is closed. I have business to attend." Buffy rose from the throne. She couldn't think of a time she'd ever needed so badly to talk to her Watcher.

**Chapter 66--The Ceremony of Innocence**

"Please pass the chicken," Cordelia said for the umpteenth time. For the umpteenth time, everyone ignored her. She wasn't getting used to being ignored; she was just getting mad.

Gunn reached across the table to get the chicken for her, earning a glare from Scarlet Whisper. He already had hold of the plate, though, so he gritted his teeth and ignored her.

"I've got to tell you I'm pretty sure what the weird waxy thing is," Buffy said, taking a quick sip of wine. "It's called a Chrysalis Grotesque, and myself possibly excluded, Infernal Exalted get that way inside one."

"Yourself possibly excluded?" Scarlet Whisper took a bite of some unidentified vegetable. Cordelia frowned at the beans that covered much of her plate and took a chicken thigh.

"I keep having to repeat it," Buffy said wearily, "so let's just say I'm not from around here and things have changed. The important point is, by now the Perfect is out and he's one of us, with a Glarghk Gul Kash'mas'tree inside." Was that a ruby on her plate? No, Buffy wouldn't bite into a ruby. Jello, maybe. She must have invented jello.

"Kash'mas'nik," Scarlet Whisper corrected. "Controlling him?"

"Not really," Buffy said. "Giving orders and advice, but he doesn't have to listen. I should get in touch with him, let him know I'm coordinating this area." It was too solid to be jello, Cordy decided. Still couldn't be a ruby.

"You have authority over the Perfect?" Scarlet Whisper asked testily.

"Only according to hell," Buffy said, smirking. Cordelia didn't approve; there was no way Scarlet Whisper would pick up the subtext.

"But of course you've given up your life of fighting hell," Scarlet Whisper suggested, "and now you serve it instead."

"Oh...yeah...of course," Buffy agreed. "Definitely. My life for the Yozis, uh-huh." Giles hid a grin in his napkin. Maybe Scarlet Whisper was getting it.

"You seem to be doing a good job as ruler," Cordelia said to Buffy. This time Buffy noticed and turned red. "The people seem happy, the stores are full, and you get to wear princess clothes. Lucky. You aren't even being told what to do by weird demon priests."

Buffy's gaze dropped to the table. "I'm not that good."

"As far as I can tell," Scarlet Whisper said, "the Yozis have left you on too long a leash if they want you to make hell on Earth. Cordelia is right. I see faults here and there, but you're an effective ruler."

Buffy crunched another translucent thing between her teeth. Rock candy? This one was blue. Buffy finally seemed to notice Cordelia looking at her. "Try one," Buffy said, and tossed her a clear one that sparkled like diamond. "Go on. They're not even all that valuable around here." She kicked Cordy under the table. Rude!

Cordelia raised the crystal to her mouth. It must be joke candy for the city of Gem. Buffy wouldn't try to feed her an actual diamond. The candy crunched between her teeth. God, it was sweet! There was a hint of fruit flavor to it, too; it tasted gorgeous. "Mmm. Thank you very much, what is it?"

Buffy smirked. "Diamond, Cordy. You can see it's diamond. Get on the ball." She began to juggle the candies.

"Cordelia," Scarlet Whisper said, "those are actual gemstones. Rather common for Gem, extremely expensive anywhere else."

Cordy stared at the fragment in her hand. "But--"

Buffy lifted her spoon to her mouth and very deliberately bit the bowl off. She chewed, making no more noise than usual, and swallowed it whole. "Tasty. Still metal, though. Want to try this too?"

Cordy made a face and finished off her diamond--since they were apparently common enough to eat here!

"I don't think I've seen that before," Whisper said. "I hear a great many stories about the limitless power of the Exalted--or the Anathema--but clearly some things are easier than others. Caste makes some difference, and the...type makes more."

Buffy nodded agreement. "I started out with a basic set of mostly physical...stuff. I could see in the dark and see the future in my dreams...and I could sense demons a little. I didn't learn much else till I came here, but I'm pretty sure Sineya and Dracula both tried to tell me I was just scratching the surface. What about you?"

"It was my art," Whisper explained. "I write, I paint...sometimes I sculpt a little. Every year at Calibration the Perfect gives out a prize for the best satirical depiction of him. He knows he's not really, literally perfect. I wrote a poem, and I recited it in public: 'The Man Who Thought He Was Perfect'. I was a shy kid, and knowing the Perfect won't hurt you isn't the same as believing it."

"Your anima display didn't betray you?" Wesley wondered.

"It happened before I went on stage. There was this light, and I felt warm and encouraged and supported. I went out and spoke, and nearly started a riot. The Perfect could tell it wasn't just the words, because they weren't that special and because I was scared to death after. He asked me to...to work for him--"

Buffy narrowed her eyes at Whisper. "What're you hiding from me?"

"I...I can't tell you," Whisper said. "I'd be violating his direct orders and I'd die."

"Pretty harsh punishment, coming from a man you admire," Gunn said.

Whisper nodded, surprising everyone. "The law can be harsh. Sometimes people commit capital crimes without meaning to, and die of it when they realize what they've done."

"And you support this guy?" Buffy said, appalled.

"You believe you were less harsh? You seem to have changed your policy here," Whisper said, "but Rupert Giles tells me you were trained to kill demons on sight. The Perfect won't make them citizens--the Scepter won't bind them--but he lets them stay for a month unless they break the law. Then they're treated the same as anyone else. The Perfect doesn't decree any capital crimes unless they involve serious danger to Paragon or its citizens, or give direct orders without similar good cause."

Buffy looked troubled. "You don't understand the situation in my world. I won't say the Perfect is a bad man. Still seems like he's running a police state, though. Just without the police. I believe you when you say he means well."

"If you hadn't figured out by now that being a ruler requires hard decisions, your city would have fallen to riots by now." Whisper sounded far sterner than anyone with her face had a right to.

"Nearly fell to worse than that," Buffy said. "Okay. You can't tell me everything, and you're not wrong about it being a tough job. You want to know about my powers, I wanna know about yours. Quickest way to learn--" She reached back and picked up the Scythe. "--is try and kick my butt."

*****

The Dulcet Consolator arced around to the left and collided with the stake-end of the Scythe just as Scarlet Whisper brought her short swords up to trap the blade end between them. Buffy leapt up, pulling the stake-end up and yanking the other end free as she somersaulted over Whisper. The Ivory Guardians slashed at Buffy, but her jump was too high for Whisper to make contact, and then the stake end came around to trip her up.

"Who trained you?" Whisper asked, unperturbed even as she toppled. "You said there were no other Exalts where you came from."

Buffy shoved her, sending her skidding across the floor. Whisper dropped one of her blades and came to rest at Giles' feet. "You're looking at him," Buffy said.

"You were trained to fight by an ordinary mortal?" Whisper said, staring. "That doesn't seem possible." Iron Siaka lunged at Buffy from behind, but Buffy dropped at the last moment and flipped the Sidereal overhead.

"A librarian in dusty tweed," Buffy agreed. "I thought the same thing at first, honestly. He was never going to kick my butt, but he's tougher than he looks."

"You don't wear armor," Whisper observed, raising her empty hand. Her missing sword sailed through the air and was caught just in time to form an x with the other and catch the Scythe.

"It's conspicuous," Buffy said, spinning backwards to trip Siaka. "It's bulky, and it doesn't stop a lot of common weapons any more." A coating of brass sheathed her body as she moved back towards Whisper. "But I think I'm adapting well to your world."

Iron Siaka was saying something, but Buffy couldn't make out what. "That's interesting," Whisper agreed, blocking a rain of blows from both ends of the Scythe. "I'll have to see if I can figure that out."

Buffy swept her feet out from under her, then caught her and slammed her across the room, though Siaka dodged lightly to the left and kept babbling. "What the heck art yu tlakn agt? Vah?" Buffy stopped speaking for a second and tried again. "Gft Jau bis?"

"Roit gyt bael beth?" Giles said angrily, stepping forward. Buffy put her hands up in a blocking gesture and shook her head. She didn't think they'd done anything to him, just to her perceptions.

Iron Siaka said "Kort mey fiblis" to Giles before Buffy lost track even of the syllables. Now it might as well have been "blah blah blah". Giles made a face and stepped back just as Whisper stabbed a distracted Buffy in the side.

Buffy stepped away casually, pulling the blade from her side; the wound hurt, but it was only pain. The real loss was her inability to quip. She tried to make a remark about foul play, but nothing would come to mind. All she heard come out of her mouth was "blah blah blah", and the others clearly heard incoherent syllables, if that much. She slapped down the Ivory Guardians with one hand and punched Whisper in the face with the other.

She _couldn't_ let them steal her puns like this. Buffy ground her teeth and focused. "I think," she said carefully, "you just br-broke..." almost there..."my universal translator. That's going to cost you."

"Good show, Buffy!" Wesley shouted. Iron Siaka stared at her as if she'd snapped a pair of adamantium handcuffs. Gunn and Cordy clapped.

"You guys are really trying to put me through my paces," Buffy told her sparring partners.

"We know you still have powers you aren't showing us," Siaka said. "What about the hair? Or being a giant?"

"You want to get a good look at cave-Buffy?" She was asking Whisper; Siaka had seen several of Buffy's increasing cavalcade of shapes. She wasn't entirely comfortable using those yet, but she knew now that should be trying to get that way.

"Vishhhion!" Cordelia sang out suddenly. It came out slurred as the other ex-cheerleader stumbled to one side. "I gotta shay I like thish one better than usual."

"Oh dear," Wesley said. "Cordelia, what do you see?"

"Jusht some guy in a yoke," she mumbled, "drinkin...shome hella shtrong liquor. Dunno why that's got the PTBs all worked up."

"A yoke?" Whisper was suddenly perturbed. "What does he look like?"

"Uuuummmm...dark-shkinned but blondish straight hair. Not like he'sh tan, like he's black with weird hair. Tall, shtrong but not too muscly. Salty goodness." Cordelia sank down against the wall.

"The Perfect," Whisper said. "But what's he drinking?" The last was to herself; she could see Cordy was in no shape to answer.

"When I took over Gem, the bigshot demons gave me a bottle of top-label chalcanth," Buffy said. "They called it azoth."

"Made from a higher circle of demon," Siaka said. "Still alive, after a fashion, until you drink it."

"Why would the PTBs care if some demon lord gets offed?" Gunn wanted to know.

"A great many reasons, mortal." Iron Siaka didn't deign to elaborate.

Buffy glared. "Be nice."

"Make me," the Sidereal replied. "We're not done here."

"All right," Buffy growled. "But you won't like me when I'm angry."

*****

Giles tried very hard to stroll down the palace corridor with Buffy. It shouldn't have been a difficult thing to do, and it wouldn't have been if Buffy were the petite girl he had trained for half a decade. Instead he was trying to speak to a musclebound Neandertal who was very nearly walking on her knuckles, who was covered in shining brass, and whose hair had just tangled itself into an elaborate braid that would have dragged the floor had it not been levitating. "I must ask, Buffy. Why not return to your normal shape?"

"Because this shape is my shape too, Giles." Buffy's voice in this form was a contralto snarl. "I like being pretty. I'll be pretty again soon. But 'pretty' doesn't define me. I want to get used to being all of who I am."

"These powers...I must confess that I never anticipated these developments, not even after finding you here." Giles hoped he was making clear that his distress wasn't for Buffy ceasing to be "pretty". "I was no more told the truth about the Slayer than you were. I suspect it was lost long ago."

"If Slayers lived longer than two or three years more often, you'd have found out sooner," Buffy muttered. "Someone didn't want to know. Or didn't want us to."

"I share your frustration," Giles said, trying not to be distracted by a particularly gaudy set of wall hangings that must have been at least ten percent thread-of-gold. "And yet, had you known--"

"At least a fifth of all the Infernals in Creation have turned on the Old Ones,Giles, and it's only been five years. The Yozis are that anti-human. They think they can bribe us with bling and designer drugs, but even Conan knows they're not really gonna let him run the show." Buffy turned sideways to shoulder her way through a narrow door. "The Abyssals are defecting too, and the Deathlords and Neverborn keep them on an even tighter leash. I could have known without turning into a monster. Most of the Line could have."

"Not all," Giles said. "And if even one in a hundred would have decided to free the Old Ones we would have been in dire trouble." He paused while a pair of servants, evidently used to Buffy's form, offered her a cool drink. She handed one to him before taking one for herself. "You took those two apart, Buffy."

"Whisper and Siaka wanted to see what I can do, find out what I've learned since I fought Siaka last. I showed them what they wanted to know." Buffy rubbed the shiner they'd given her with a couple of fingers. "You've seen me come in with bruises and a split lip on bad nights, Giles. Did they ever hold me back one bit? They look worse off than they are, I swear. And...Scarlet Whisper's an Eclipse. I think she might be interested in learning some of my powers. She's newer than me and not as big on combat."

"Should you teach her?" Giles wondered. "Not all of your powers have proven harmless, or easy to adjust to."

Buffy turned slightly and put a hand on his shoulder. It was nearly big enough to envelop his head. "Power can go to anybody's head, Giles, and Exalts seem more susceptibile than we ought to be. But the type of power doesn't seem to come into it much. If she asks, I'll teach her what she wants to know, if I can."

"She serves the Perfect of Paragon, Buffy. Don't forget that. Whatever his intentions, he runs a truly repressive state verging on totalitarian control. And she approves of him enough to have sworn her loyalty." He had to impress that on Buffy; she seemed to have taken to the diplomat almost at once.

"I understand, Giles. I don't know that I can keep things from her if he wants to teach them to her, but I'll be cautious." She began, slowly, to shrink down from her combat form. "Got to hold Big Brother down."

"Thank you, Buffy." Giles breathed a sigh of relief. "I have no desire to become Winston in our own world, let alone here."

*****

Iron Siaka applied a cold compress to Scarlet Whisper's bruised face. There had never been a time she could have imagined administering first aid to an Anathema, yet that seemed increasingly to be her fate. Not that Buffy usually needed such help.

"I've never seen those techniques," Whisper mused. "I don't suppose you could teach them to me?"

Dzhesus! Even Gold Stars didn't intentionally teach their pets Sidereal magic! Though now that she thought of it, any Eclipses they were training needed careful watching. "Maybe. I know some exotic martial arts you might like. What did you think of the Despot's combat magicks?"

"Sadly, I think most of them were too flashy. I'd risk exposure as an Anathema if I used them." Whisper finished wrapping the bandage around Siaka's arm.

"Wise not to break your cover," Siaka agreed. She'd kept that advice as best she could, hoping that Buffy would forget her now that the Despot was inside Fate. Hadn't happened yet; they had to interact too much. Siaka had made too many promises to Anya and to the Bureau to either leave Buffy's side or try again to kill her. She was in deep, had been ever since seeing the woman who'd fought a deathknight with no training and barely a clue what she was.

"If the Perfect is really serving the Yozis, I'll have to kill him," Whisper murmured.

"You can do that?" The citizenship oaths of Paragon bound those who swore to obey the Perfect on pain of death.

"Demon-related loophole," the Eclipse said quietly. "I have a duty to the nation to defend it from demons and creatures of darkness. If the Paragon were to actively order me to let him alone I might die in the attempt, but then I'd die either way. Might as well go down fighting." Yes, that was a Solar talking. Though in fairness, most Exalts would say much the same.

"Might as well. I'll do whatever I can to help, if it comes to that." And she would--though she'd still far prefer if said help came in the form of a legion of Realm troops to occupy Paragon and overthrow the Anathema there. Up till now, the Perfect had been "good enough", but the only really long-term way of keeping the uglies out was to keep the Dragon-Blooded strong. So it was time for a new government? They'd done that after the Shogunate, too. And if it had to incorporate a few of the Anathema for a little while to hold the line, Iron Siaka would bite her tongue and do what it took, but she knew better than to think that would last. They were just too unstable.

"What do you think of Cordelia's vision?" Scarlet Whisper wasn't going to forget that, which was both sensible of her and very inconvenient.

"I think my friends and I have plans to deal with it," Siaka said. "I just have to notify the right people." No Yozi's fetich soul had died since the end of the Primordial War, but sometimes the unthinkable had to be done. And it was the Five-Score Fellowship's job to see that it was.


	10. Keep You Like an Oath

Black waters lapped at rotting piers beneath a sullen sky of iron-grey clouds. There was movement here, the quick furtive motion of rats, the flapping of raiton and raven wings, the scurrying of sailors hurrying to unload and get away. It was the twitching of a corpse transfixed by wires and jolted by lightning.

Into this quick, repetitive, yet feeble seizure strode a figure swathed in grey robes, walking down the gangplank with a speed born of determination. The captain stepped in front of the figure as its slipper-shod feet touched crumbling cobblestones, leached of color like all else here. "My lady, are you sure? Thorns is no place for a young woman by herself."

The shrouded figure laughed deep in her throat. "Neither was the place I grew up. I'll manage." She had to cut off a few more protests, but finally the captain let her go.

The streets of Thorns were not quite dead, like its inhabitants. Forges rang and goods changed hands. Smoke billowed into the sky. The woman went on, cloak flapping in the breeze, past workers breathing with difficulty in the warm haze and nobles dressed in stark, colorful contrast to their home, pretending they could push back the grey nothing that stalked them. _You're sure about this?_ she asked the silence in her head.

 _Wish I could be,_ came the answer. _Destiny doesn't mean much when there aren't enough to go around. Got a better chance than we did, though._ The voice had not been so kind when she left Gem, but it had regained some of the humanity she remembered. Only some. _I did have the dream._

 _First things first,_ the cloaked woman replied. _Got to report in._

The great black palace of the Mask of Winters loomed before her, a huge pyramidal thing of ebon wood and jet stone. Beyond the mocking statue of the Mask himself, beyond the guardian undead, the golden doors stood shut. No one else approached the palace, so she walked up to the statue and around it. Stinking zombies crossed polearms in front of the door as she approached.

"I come as emissary to the Mask of Winters," she said, "from the Unconquerable Shadow." The zombies made no move to let her through. With a sigh she let her cloak fall. "Everyone always insists on getting my i.d.," she said crankily. "And here I am without it. Well..." She drew a pair of razor-sharp blades from the sheathes that hung at her sides. She wore a simple pantsuit beneath the cloak, made of fine cloth but without anything that might confine her legs or trip her up. She couldn't afford that; she was only human.

Before the zombies could lift their polearms, their heads hung limp from their necks, rotten flesh half-severed. Buffy seized the polearm from the one on her right and swung it in an arc, tripping the guards up like Keystone Kops. "How's that for a substitute? I'm here to see the Mask of Winters..." The gilded doors swung open to reveal a cluster of better-armed soldiers; these looked mortal, though with a foot in the grave already. "...or his representative will do. Wisdom Whispered? The Unrepentant Soldier? Um...Stern Ashikawa?"

"Your presence has not been announced to the Mask of Winters," the lead soldier growled.

Buffy bowed her head low. She couldn't fight trained mortal soldiers in armor like this. "I apologize. I can present evidence of my position if I can see someone in authority." They might kill her, which would suck; her life might be an echo of the real Buffy's, but it hadn't been too bad so far. At least the rest of her would be okay, which was a little comforting. A little.

"The Mask of Winters takes no interest in you, mortal." The rasp came from a Frankenstein's monster of a soldier who atrode up behind the guardsmen, scars faintly visible on its openly patchwork body, ninety-five percent of which went unconcealed by its bikini-bottom armor. "Tell me why you would expect him to, and you may live. The scent of the cowards called Yozi lies on you."

"I am an avatar of the Moonshadow caste, Unconquerable Shadow," Buffy said, "who must deal at times with the Yozis' champions and has learned a few of their works, which produced me." It wasn't even false...from a certain point of view, anyway. "I bring offers of cooperation and mutual aid."

"Hmm." The monstrosity before her bowed its head in thought. "You are correct. My duties do not cover such as you. You shall face the Mask, and he shall decide your fate." The full, dead lips parted, and the Unrepentant Soldier's mocking laughter echoed through the hall.

**Chapter 67--Keep You Like an Oath**

"I have to disagree with you," Scarlet Whisper said calmly. "You may not have been initiated when you attempted those exorcisms, but you are a sorceror now. You've described precisely the Fugue of Truth, and you cast it successfully. It revealed the one great magical deception in your life: that your sister wasn't your sister."

Buffy groaned. "Can we keep it between us? Ligier and Erembour and I think even Madelrada wanted me to learn sorcery. Cyan says there aren't enough Green Sun Princes to leave it to specialists. It's not that I mind learning, it's just that...."

"You don't want to end up having to cast battle spells for the Yozis and demon lords," Iron Siaka agreed. "For an Anathema, you're pretty honorable." She shifted to sit further forward. "Thing is, those powers aren't any more unholy than the basic magicks you know as an Exalt. You could slaughter an army without sorcery. It'd just take longer."

Buffy raised her head and set her jaw. "The Orchid-Eater was sure I'd pick it up eventually. He said most Infernals do. Even Cearr learned how to summon demons when I was in Malfeas last."

"Demons are dangerous, Buffy," said Whisper, "and many of them at least tend toward evil, but you have good friends who are demons, even those two you knew before ever coming here. Be cautious, not frightened."

"I might advise that you avoid summoning demons on Earth," Giles spoke up, setting aside his drink to polish his glasses. "But so far as I can determine, they're quite right about this world and time."

"You still want her to abandon her kingdom and go home," Scarlet Whisper accused. "I understand you trained her--and you trained her well--but she's grown beyond being your child soldier. She deserves to become as well-rounded an Exalt as anyone from our place and time."

"Which is my goal for her now as well," Giles said agreeably. "If she prefers to stay, I have heard that we have an adequate replacement to guard our world, and perhaps do more. And you're right: Gem needs her. Buffy, your choices are your own. I merely ask that you remember that power does not remove the consequences of your actions."

Buffy got up wearily. "Thanks for the advice, all of you. I've got a meeting of nobles that I put off till the rest of me got back. Then I'm making an announcement about my royal consort--"

"I still say you should send back a message to Mnemon accepting those Dynasts as her wedding gift," Siaka interrupted, still leaning back in her chair. "You can't afford to let her think of you as anything but an equal."

Buffy narrowed her eyes. Since returning, Siaka's underhanded ploy had been obvious--she expected Mnemon to be insulted--but Buffy wasn't entirely convinced her assessment was right. Mnemon loved one thing, power, and she'd secure it any way she could. "...then I'm going to split off a double to get good and bowlegged, and _then_ I've got a Thing in Malfeas to get ready for. They're sure as hell gonna crow about getting the Perfect on their side."

"Suggestion, Buff," Siaka put in. Buffy blinked; it was the first time the Sidereal had dropped a nickname on her. "Those Dynasts are going to be Dynasts, and you ought to do a little of your own partying anyway. Delegate the Malfeas trip and do the getting bowlegged yourself. Even if the Yozis are pissed off that you sent a double, the worst they can do is kill her, not you. Take it from a Chosen of Serenity."

Buffy glanced at Scarlet Whisper, who said nothing and looked embarrassed. Giles was furiously cleaning his glasses.

"The duplicates _are you_ , in every way that matters to other people," Siaka said. "I don't see why you don't keep one in Malfeas full time. Study, make connections...'enjoy the ambiance,'" she added wryly. "Merge with her whenever she comes back and bust up any mind control. Again, the worst that can happen is that she might get killed, and that could happen anywhere."

"I can't stay in direct contact across worlds," Buffy said thoughtfully. Siaka's suggestion was honest this time. "But maybe you're right. As long as I'm the one here in Gem, anyway. I can't get in the habit of spreading myself too thin." _Could_ a double study the lore in Malfeas and bring it back inside her mind every so often? It was worth looking into.

Giles put a hand on her shoulder. "Whatever else you do, Buffy, please remember that at your core, you are human. I mean that in both senses: don't abandon your humanity, and don't presume that you've lost it because of your powers."

She nodded to him, offering him a smile. He couldn't see what it cost her on the inside. He was right, of course. He couldn't see how much she wanted to just let go. For a little while, Buffy had been so much stronger on the inside...and all it had cost her was herself.

*****

"You, of all people, undercutting us!" Arbani Halan raged. "Your laws guarantee my monopoly!"

Buffy just nodded. "Yup. And you can make all the monopoly money you want. I'm not selling firewands. I'm selling _hellwands._ They're not any better than yours, and I can't help it if people think they are." Some people avoided the new weapon's reputation, but more were willing to believe a demonic flamethrower _had_ to be more effective. Selling the things made her uneasy, but in the long run, cutting into House Arbani's profits could only benefit her. She didn't need the money; she could wreck him and then stop selling the things, and Creation's fledgeling firearm market would go bust, at least for a while while someone else tried to figure out his techniques.

Halan sputtered on for a few moments before a raised eyebrow from her stopped him. Circla Belusco spoke up next. "Despot, are you serious about putting on an exhibition match? Surely even one of your power could suffer an...accident."

"I could," Buffy admitted. "In principle. In practice, I'm not letting more than one Dragon-Blood fight me at a time. It'd take a powerful warrior Exalt to kill me _and_ not get booed out of the arena for chanting spells or something. Them, we don't let sign up." She handed him some drawings. "These are the new arena designs. They're made for different kinds of sporting events." She had football, basketball, and baseball drawn up already and several more close to completion. "Look like something you can do?"

Belusco examined the papers. "Team events? Less direct combat...but a display of unparalleled skill, no doubt. This could be wonderful, Despot. Only grant me your imprimatur and we will set to work at once."

"You'll have it." She turned to the wrinkled old lady. "Iblan Bana, I know you're having labor issues since I freed the slaves. I didn't do it to undermine you."

Bana glared undiluted venom at her. House Iblan's profits were in the toilet, and here in Gem, toilets didn't even flush. She turned away without speaking.

Buffy rustled a parchment next to her. "I have a business proposal for you. Interested?"

" _Malfean_ metals? You're serious?" Bana squinted at the papers as if unable to comprehend what she was seeing.

"You'll have the only market in Creation." There was nothing intrinsically evil about Malfean brass or lead, no matter how unnerving they might seem. Buffy began to pull the parchment away.

"I'll sign! Just, please, allow me to examine the fine print first." Bana grabbed for a brush.

"No fine print," Buffy said. "Guaranteed."

This was easier than she had expected. Less exhausting? Not so much. But definitely easier.

*****

The march had run Buffy down. She was about as fit as a human could be, but climbing the back of the great rotting behemoth, trying not to breathe the smell, depending on an escort of undead to keep the maggot monsters away...that was beyond human endurance. And now she stood here atop Juggernaut, in the throne room of an undead monster that made the Master look like a baby vampire fresh from the crypt, and watched the face of the Deathlord turn toward her. She wanted to weep from relief as his calm, cultured voice said, "Bring the emissary a seat. She needs to rest."

A wisp of a shade of a spirit moved a padded chair over to her, and she sat. _Don't obey him,_ Buffy reminded her. _Don't accept any hospitality you don't have to._ It was a slender reed, but according to everything she had heard the Green Sun Princes were a largely unknown phenomenon. If anything could surprise the Mask of Winters, her need to obey her original might, and then there'd be no need to pit Buffy's powers directly against his undoubtedly greater ones.

"Now," the Mask said gently, leaning toward her. "Tell me about this...'offer of mutual aid'."

"Buffy Summers is no friend of the Yozis," she said, beginning the perfectly true story they'd thought through in advance. "She's an Infernal by circumstance, not intent. As soon as she was able, she made a deal to have another of her doubles made a deathknight, Unconquerable Shadow. While one Buffy rules Gem as Despot, the Shadow maneuvers in the West, seeking more power for herself. I've come to offer you, and the Neverborn, our collective resources."

The Mask of Winters stood there like a statue for a few moments. Slowly, dreadfully, he began to laugh. "Audacious girl! What a little viper the Yozis have taken to themselves. Little avatar of an Exalt, I have no immediate use for such aid. I do not plan to expand my rule beyond Thorns, not, at least, for some time yet. But you are too valuable a pawn to merely cast aside. I sense that you have spoken no lies to me, and you have no power of your own, so I will keep you here in Thorns. Go back to the palace below when you have rested. We will find you a comfortable home, and should I have use for you, we will speak again." He began to turn--then whirled back on her. "Wait. Whose monstrance holds Unconquerable Shadow's Exaltation?"

Perfect! "The First and Forsaken Lion's, my lord."

The Mask of Winters returned to his maniacal cackling. He really was, in the end, just a powerful ghost, as caught up in his personal trauma drama as the teacher and student who'd bodysnatched her and Angelus. That was one hell of a thing to realize about a genius and world-beating conqueror, but she could see it, could practically smell it on him. She was still Buffy Summers, even without her powers, and Buffy Summers knew her forces of darkness. "That fool! No doubt he thinks to have you betray me. Well, he shall rue his mistake in good time. Go!"

She was on her feet before she could even remember Despot Summers had told her not to obey him or take his hospitality. _It's okay,_ Buffy said in her mind. _He's doing what we want. Watch out for any sign he's twigged to us, and remember there might not_ be _any sign, but for now he's got us exactly where we want him._

*****

"Operation Briar Patch is on target," Buffy said to Gunn. He was a nice guy, and a good demon hunter. Really it was too bad he'd spent so much time cooped up in Yu-Shan. He was never going to catch up now.

"Briar Patch," he said wryly. "I won't even ask."

"Good," Buffy said. "Two people can keep a secret if one of 'em's dead, and I don't wanna have to kill you. Settling in okay? I know you got dragged along on this whole 'save the cheerleader' bit, and then I didn't want rescuing." She offered him a beer.

Gunn shook his head. "It's warm. As for you...well, not like it's the first time, and you really do have a better handle on things than Cordelia."

"Not sure if I should be insulted by faint praise," Buffy said with a laugh. "She was basically just a puppet of the demon priesthood, right?"

Gunn made some pointy gesture at her. "Got it. Not that she realized it till she started getting overruled whenever she wanted something changed."

Buffy hunted through her limited supply of snacks. "Sure you don't want anything? Fruit? Jerky? Locusts? I'd kill for some chocolate fudge ripple right now. Guess I'll have to learn how to make my own."

"I'm good," Gunn said. "I wanna see this Calibration thing. No stars? None?"

"That's what they told me," Buffy agreed, "but I ought to get going. Five nights a year when you can pop straight to Malfeas and back. I've got to take advantage." She opened her mouth and breathed out streamers of bloody breath.

Gunn stumbled backward as a new Buffy materialized, clothed in a simple dress and sandals. "So it's not gonna be all booze and sexy times this time, is it?" the new arrival said regretfully.

"As much as you have time for," Buffy Prime reminded her. "Just remember the erymanthoi aren't anatomically compatible and you'll be fine."

The copy nodded doubtfully and hurried off. "You really are getting weird," Gunn muttered, half to himself.

Buffy stretched out her braid and patted him on the shoulder. "Gunn, when I was first called I could have taken your head off with a good punch. I've had demon bugs try to crawl up my neck and brainwash me. I've had my worst nightmares turn real. I've even been a muppet. Weird is what you make of it, okay? I've got powers. I use them to fight evil. Now let's go upstairs and watch the stars not come out. You with me?"

*****

The heavens shimmered with a curtain of rainbow fire that made Buffy think of the auroras she'd never actually seen. Maybe that was what they were. Calibration was a strange time, and everyone here expected it to be. Gunn was off on another balcony by now, talking to Cordelia. Wesley and Giles were reading books about Calibration by the light of the sky and some glowstones.

Buffy was sitting on one of the highest balconies with Iron Siaka and Scarlet Whisper, waiting. One by one the Dynasts filed out of the tower. Assuming they'd told the truth, they'd been chosen for open-mindedness as much as attractiveness, and none of them would be a snake in her bosom. Not that she had enough bosom to keep a snake in anyway. Metaphors!

Cynis Darvin was freaky and perverted even by the standards of his kinky family. A Water Aspect, he seemed to think Buffy being Anathema was a special notch on his bedpost rather than a reason to have her slaughtered. He was maybe the least attractive of the five--his greenish complexion made him look sick to her--but he was absolutely as good in bed as his reputation suggested.

Nellens Vai, a Wood aspect, had unusually strong breeding for her house, and had said she had faith that Buffy could figure out some mystical method of getting her pregnant. The Nellens family needed more Exalts and would worry about strengthening the purity of the bloodline later. Vai was open-minded even for a Nellens. She was likely also right, one way or another. There were limits on Exalted power...out there somewhere. Buffy hadn't found them yet.

Ledaal Yaruch was a sorceror from the Heptagram. An older Air aspect, he had a tendency to spout Immaculate propaganda about Anathema even in her hearing, but he was just as nice to her in every other way even in the middle of a rant. It was almost as if he didn't remember what she was, unless he was talking about using her essence in his experiments.

Mnemon Ranata, on the other hand, smelled of open graves. If he wasn't so chill and easy-going, the necromancer would've been sent back without the others. He was handsome as a classic romance-novel vampire and just as creepy when he got going on his favorite subject. But he also seemed to realize he was too much of a fluke himself to have room to complain about what she was. If Mnemon had had things all her way, the whole group would've come from her house, but instead she'd had to search out Terrestrials who wouldn't just take the chance to cut down an Anathema.

Finally there was V'neef Usolt. She certainly had no interest in kids. Buffy had been surprised to hear that the butch Fire aspect was more conventionally-feminine than Vai by Terrestrial standards. Usolt saw Buffy (and to some extent, Vai) as a bit of fluff--pretty, but impossible to take seriously as an Exalt or Anathema. Real women were solid and as tough as any man. She wasn't really to Buffy's taste in women, but she did have...skills.

"I'm sure you're all wondering what's been taking me so long," Buffy began. "I'm not just screwing around. My advisor has suggested a proper course of action. Right now, I have a messenger catching up with Mnemon to thank her for her extravagant engagement present, and could we arrange the wedding as soon as possible." She gave that a moment to sink in. Same-sex relationships were nothing strange to Dynasts, but marriage, almost everywhere in Creation, was a way of tracking Terrestrial bloodlines and thus a man-and-woman thing. That was custom, though, not really law, and Mnemon was currently the most powerful woman in the Realm. If she declared a marriage to another woman, who would contradict her?

Each and every one of these Dynasts, it seemed. The balcony erupted in angry protestations. They were doing this as a favor to Mnemon; they were not under her thumb. They were Princes of the Earth, not Buffy's toys. She was Anathema and they had been polite about it!

Buffy began to laugh. The louder she laughed the quieter they got. "First: stop using that word 'Anathema'. I don't want to hear it from you." For once she didn't care about her compulsion powers. "Second, none of you are my slaves. I don't do that. You wanna go? Go. You wanna stay in Gem but not with me? Go wherever. You wanna undermine my rule? Go to hell. This is all politics. If Mnemon says no, she says no. I'll be waiting for her to come back and try again. Good luck to her, she'll need it."

They crowded angrily out the door. "Not how either of you would've handled it, I guess. I don't have much patience these days."

Iron Siaka just shook her head. "I suppose you'd better show them who's boss."

"You could have used a finer touch," Scarlet Whisper said, "but somehow I think that's not your style."

"This isn't exactly the method I'd have used for proposing to Mnemon," Siaka added after a moment.

Buffy removed her crown and studied it. "Let's just say this'll be my second political marriage and the first one ended in my unfortunate demon husband's death." She replaced the diadem. "It's all about the pursuit."

*****

Buffy didn't much like the Shroudvaunt neighborhood. Sure, it was upscale. It was also very blatantly built on the suffering of others. There were some places where you could feel the rich had earned their wealth; not here. Here, even if you didn't think the zombie servants felt any pain, a few steps outside would take you into the Legacy district where the starving masses were trapped.

So she went there. Compared to most of the people barely surviving there, she might as well still be the Slayer. Against the few who had the strength and initiative left to rob a stranger in fine clothes, she still had five years of combat experience. They were bringing knives to a gunfight.

It was all relative, of course. Surviving shops dotted the district, though they grew fewer as you got deeper in. Families still lived in the homes here where they stood. More than survival was possible...with luck.

Those whose luck ran out were swept up by patrolling ghosts, solid here in the shadowland. Zombies shackled their hands and hauled them off to the bursting jails to die. There was only so much any mortal could do. Even her.

A figure huddled behind some trash cans across from one such bust caught her eye. The specter vanished into the house, leaving a band of inattentive zombies, and she rushed over to join the fugitive.

"My spot, lady," the kid said, and tried to shove her out. He was in his early teens, and scrawny. "They don't want _you_ , not 'less you did sumpin."

"They're going to take that family unless you stop them," Buffy told the kid. She had seen this in her dreams. What happened next, she didn't know.

"Me? You crazy, lady. I'm nobody. I go out there, all that happens is they take me too. The Exalted'll come and kill the Mask. I just have to last till they do."

"You might," she said, "but there's someone who can do more than that. A Chosen One. You."

The kid laughed in her face. "If I'm the Chosen One, the world's in trouble."

"Nope," Buffy argued. "You have the power. You're the one boy in all the world who can stand against the zombies, the specters, and the forces of darkness."

The kid shook his head at her. "Then the world is outta luck, lady." He watched as the zombie patrol shambled off, prisoners staggering after them, and scurried away.

Buffy shook her head in irritation, worry, and faint amusement. She'd been hoping he'd rise to the challenge, but her dreams had brought her here for a reason. "See you round, kid."

*****

Buffy was tired. Not sleepy--though in the past she'd have taken the cue to go catch some z's--but run down. Nobles and Dynasts and Iron Siaka, oh my. Separating out doubles to have fun had been a good idea. It even worked up to a point. But making the doubles cost her, too, and she had to get them back to get any benefit from it.

The Ebon Dragon wheedled her to take back his power. She had felt so much more confident, so much more determined. This time there'd be no getting rid of it, but TARA had promised she could force herself to behave.

No, it wouldn't be that easy. She wouldn't want to. She hadn't gotten as far as wrecking Gem that first time, but she would get there, and then what?

"I swear," she mumbled, "I swear I won't...I'll take care of the people who depend on me. I will. Just...let me stop...running down like this." The room swam before her eyes; she toppled forward onto the desk.

*****

If Creation was a little off during Calibration, Malfeas was dowright _weird_. The city seemed to have separated out into a web of brass and stone, with isolated building-islands drifting through the sky. Layers below Buffy, the green sun shone through the netting.

She took a step and the rotten brass vines gave way beneath her, spilling her into the void. Sulumor reached for her, but the broken halves of the bridge were already drifting apart. Buffy sailed off through the stone and metal web of the Demon City.

A wordless song echoed through the void, and a hand caught her by the leg and pulled her in. Buffy lay there on a broad plaza tiled in blocks of lead and stone, breathing hard as the cracked tones of a flute whistled in the background.

"Malfeas's no place for mortals, Buffy Summers! Why you go a-sprawling? Stay on the ledges if you come here. Iarwain's not often free to roam and catch you."

Buffy struggled to her feet, looking around for the speaker with the singsong voice. "Iarwain?"

"Iarwain Benadar, as they called me. First and Fatherless. When the Wyld was all I walked there, waiting for Old Time to wake. Then the spark of creation caught, and I was there to greet my fellows."

Finally she got a good look at him. Her rescuer was a short man, white-bearded and white-haired, but brown as the proverbial nut. He wore a blue jacket made of something like denim and yellow-dyed leather boots. His face...something about his face made her eyes shy away from it, but she knew him anyway, and knew she had gone mad.

It was...Tom Bombadil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise this is not a joke, except perhaps on a cosmic level.


	11. Surely Some Revelation

"Neither mortal nor Exalted? Buffy Summers, you amuse me." The little man in bright colors sat on the lead tile and handed Buffy a cup of what surely had to be tea, from the scent. The taste was sharp, almost bitter, but her palate had broadened lately. "Iarwain has few who visit, nor can he get out and wander. Only one is prisoned tighter, Sacheverell, who never wakens." Blech. Never mind, wrong palate. Wait....

"Sacheverell? The Yozi? But then are you--?" Atonal pipes rang in her ears.

"This is my hell nor am I free. Still, tis Calibration and some few of my _jouten_ have leave enough to step outdoors. Tom was master; none could catch him, till they slew the River-Daughter." Iarwain sipped his tea casually as if all this was a matter of no concern now. "Then they found poor Tom a-mourning, caught him there and broke his wings. Now he lies in wretched pain, while through the tow'rs she blows in silence, ghost of what she used to be."

Buffy stood and walked to the edge of the tiles. She could have sworn she'd fallen only a few yards, but the round platform with its square tiles floated in emptiness miles away from the web of brass catwalks and basalt islands. "I hope you're not trying to trap me here. I don't take well to--"

"Only Iarwain is bound here. Buffy, she is free to go. Yet perhaps the sweetest Slayer might consent to entertain him." The little man--she still could not say what it was about his face she couldn't look at--held out a plate of cookies. How had he come up so close to her? "Ancient and Firstborn I am, and all things my eyes have seen. Sacheverell remembers nothing; only now is real to him. If he wakened even Tom would find himself constrained at once. Thus by Iarwain's truth must All-Seer remain in slumber."

Buffy took a cookie, and the plate was empty. "You sound almost like you want something from me." The cookie tasted like air. Not nothing--air. She hadn't realized air had a taste. "Not that you're being all that coherently splainy."

"Tom speaks in no riddles, Buffy. Your own head is too constrained. Let Iarwain open it, as your overself has done." The little man caught her head between his hands and forced her to look into his eyes.

He had no eyes. He had no face. She had no face. She had no thoughts.

**Chapter 68--Surely Some Revelation**

Buffy woke slowly with a strange taste in her mouth. It should have been a bad taste, but she hadn't tasted anything bad since she started eating stone and metal and...pretty much anything she wanted. "Nnngh. Cordy I'm tryin' to rest."

"I thought you didn't sleep any more." Cordelia shook her again. "I know you don't have any meetings or proclamations scheduled but it's almost noon and this is ridiculous."

Buffy pushed herself up. "I'm...I feel like I learned...I dunno, something." Letters of fire flared behind her eyes as if etched in her skull. _I will defend the people who depend on me._ Well, she meant to, but written in fire inside her?

"Whatever. Your shapeshifting demon...girlfriends?...they're worried about you because you were apparently supposed to have some kind of orgy last night." Cordelia gave the entire concept a smirk big enough to scare...well, startle...the Kukla. "You didn't show up and boink them. Or let them boink you, I'm not too clear."

"Blunt as ever. See how you manage if you ever get to be Exalted." Buffy was about to conclude that Cordy was out of luck on that front; arriving the first time had torn Fate and freed up Exaltations, but aside from Tara there hadn't been any in months.

"If it turns me into some kind of bisexual slut I...." Cordelia hesitated. "I don't want to be one." The last bit exuded the most pseudo-confidence that had ever pseudoed.

"Careful what you wish for," Buffy said with a wink. "Every once in a while one swears to celibacy. It's all very epic. Can you imagine Faith sworn to celibacy?"

Cordelia went decidedly green, and not with envy. "Well...anyway...you should go tell your friends you're all right and that you haven't gone all ooky-demony."

Buffy couldn't resist. She nodded casually and, instead of rising, dropped to all fours in radeken-guise. Half-panther, half-dragon, she paced to the door and glanced over her shoulder. "I'll let them know."

This was supposed to be an illusion. There were no texts about it, no ancient lore; it seemed that Buffy had stumbled onto something entirely new. The demonic form she was wearing felt real and disturbingly natural and...and animalistic. Radeken were predators, smart but not remotely intellectual.

_**Speak for yourself, Buffysummers.** _

_Oh, can it, Sineya. Just enjoy being out in the open. You love it when I'm you._

_**You are always me. Always have been me.** _

Buffy flexed the wings that grew from her back. If this was an illusion, it was Matrix-quality. Her wings ached to lift her into the air, but the corridors weren't roomy enough for that. Nor was it a great idea to go flying outside. This was her city, but the servants gave her a wide berth and they knew who she was. Ordinary citizens--bar her neomah, who would also recognize her--would like a loose radeken even less.

"Buffy? Is that you?" Buffy came to a halt in the crossing corridor and let Giles catch up to her. He wasn't the biggest fan of Sineya himself. She'd tried to kill him, after all. "Iron Siaka asked me to tell you she was leaving."

Buffy curled her neck back. "Leaving? But--"

"A nation called Chaya is going to war, she said." Giles frowned, shook his head, scratched her on the shoulder, and shook his head again. "She claimed it was impossible but didn't say why."

"The Chayans always go mad just before Calibration," Scarlet Whisper said, emerging into the hall. "It should be winding--Rupert? Is this Buffy?"

"It's me," Buffy snarled. "I'm no more dangerous than usual."

"The madness should be about done with by now. When they're sane, they're extremely peaceful. I can't imagine what could change that." Whisper shuddered. "The Chayans are...different."

"Iron Siaka said that the Chayan god, Xochichem, had appeared in Yu-Shan behaving strangely perhaps a week ago." Giles consulted with a sheaf of notes he'd taken. "Though for a city god, Xochichem is quite odd already. Not in any way humanoid. I'm not sure what about his behavior was strange."

"Chayans strongly discourage Exalted from staying in their lands," Whisper said. "I wouldn't expect most means of controlling the people to work. But perhaps if someone has gotten to their gods...?"

"Control the gods, control the nation? But can we do that?" Buffy hadn't dealt with gods much--at least, if she had she'd thought they were demons.

"Absolutely," Whisper said, nodding vigorously. "Even Dragon-Blooded could strong-arm gods into doing their bidding if they felt they needed to put in the effort."

"Then the relevant questions are why and who," Giles said. "How do we find that out?"

"We'll find out when they attack," Buffy growled. "It won't be my problem, though. They're too far from here."

*****

The streets of Thorns grew filthier every day. Outside the Aspir Haven and Shroudvaunt districts, no one was paid any longer to sweep them. In some places, foul corpses lay about where they had fallen when the magick sustaining them fell; such minor creations were of no consequence to the Mask of Winters. There were always more bodies.

Geran Devon scurried from refuse pile to refuse pile, darting as quickly as possible whenever the baying hungry ghosts paused to sniff. Their gazes would be pointed down, and if it were him they smelled he would have been dead already anyway.

This was no random arrest of minor criminals. This was the Mask of Winter's parody of the Wyld Hunt. Hungry ghosts swarmed Legacy, sweeping vagrants from the streets for some new corpse construct--a brace of spine chains, perhaps. When they had enough, they would leave, and there were plenty of vagrants left in the old town. Every month there were more, as houses rotted and businesses failed for lack of wares.

Devon had set up traps throughout his territory, but they were zombie traps. They might catch the occasional ghost, maybe even kill one with luck, but the hungries were far too alert to be fooled by his camouflage in any numbers. He just had to run.

Devon took off like a shot for the decaying manor up ahead. Once it had belonged to a wealthy merchant. The hungry patrols didn't enter large houses till they fell to ruins, not unless they saw someone in rags darting inside. The last pile of junk was yards away, though, so he had to hustle. He timed it just right; the door didn't even bang, and then he was out of--

"Boy."

It was a whisper on the wind. Devon struck out blindly with his belt knife but found nothing. Ghosts with the spare essence to dematerialize were more dangerous than just about any necrotech beast not built for heavy combat; you couldn't scratch them, but they could stab you.

"Foolish boy. Don't even know I'm here to help. Perhaps I should leave you to the beasts." The voice had no visible source, no direction; it seemed to emanate from the air all around him. "I am not a ghost."

"What are you? A god? A demon? Why can't--? Never mind, if you're here to help me then please, help." Neither would necessarily be visible or tangible here; the shadowland didn't affect them.

"She would've taken you with her, you know. If you'd tried. Trained you. You turned her down."

"What, that crazy lady? This isn't helping me! I don't stick my neck out, whatever you are." Devon glared in every direction, searching for some trace of the speaker, but saw only rot and dust. The only clue was a faint buzzing quality to the voice. "Life isn't like my stories."

"Ah, but it could be. There were the sunlit heroes once, those who fenced reality against things like these. Or their once-loyal, now treacherous elemental hounds. Even now those could pull down the Mask if they came in numbers. They have before. You wrote the tales of these things. You could write again. You could tell your _autobiography_ , even."

Devon choked back a laugh. "You want to possess me and make me Anathema." He'd grown up on those tales: the false heroes, the demons who'd tricked people into depending on them...and then betrayed the world.

"Yes," the demon whirred. "Is that a difficulty?"

A hungry snuffled at the window. But they never--! "No," Devon said hastily. "I want to live. What do I gotta do?"

"Hold still," was all the voice said. The buzzing sound rose up in his ears as an invisible swarm whirled around him.

And began to eat.

*****

"Buffy."

"Cyan. We've got to stop meeting like this." Buffy wearily opened her eyes. She'd been on the platform with...a man with no face.

"At least it's your mansion this time," Cyan said with some amusement. She accepted a glass that seemed to float in midair and handed it to Buffy. "Your servants are most hospitable."

Buffy sat up and took the glass. "Is that...what servant?"

"A krimenus. They're composed of many thousands of insectile hands, all of which can compress themselves into a tiny shell. Has to do with Elsewhere, no doubt; the principles never interested me much." She accepted another glass, this one with a more colorful fluid, and sipped from it.

Buffy took a drink from her glass. It was simple water. "Did I miss the party?"

Cyan laughed, a delicate tinkliing sound this time. "You survive an encounter with a _jouten_ of Oramus, mind apparently intact, and you worry about being present to welcome a new Infernal? Well, I suppose the Perfect is a critical acquisition, and he'll be under your authority, Buffy _sa_ Buffy."

Buffy narrowed her eyes slightly and drank more water. "Sa?"

"Eh, you should start naming your avatars so we can distinguish them. _Sa_ is normally used for demon souls, but in private some of us have begun to use it for splinter-avatars like yourself. Don't let the Unquestionable hear it, not yet, anyway. They'll think you're putting on airs."

Buffy tried not to squirm at that. It was one thing getting used to the idea that she was not entirely human and that it was okay. But the root of that worry--that she was becoming more like the Yozis--still bothered her. _Or like Gaia and Autochthon,_ she reminded herself. Tara had pointed that out. It made her different; that was all.

"How much do we change?" she asked. "In my dreams, and sometimes when I'm awake, people tell me I don't even know what I am or what's coming. That I haven't even started yet. You did, even, when we first met. But I'm one of the longest-lived Slayers in my world, ever. So...what _are_ we?"

Cyan sat there for a moment sipping her water. "To tell the truth...I don't know. The ancient Exalts created whole new lands, sometimes complete with people, from essentially nothing. They spoke and nations obeyed. No army...no mortal army, that is...could stand against them. The Lunars could take any shape, even becoming mountains...or behemoths. Even the Dragon-Blooded could wrack the world with storms and quakes and waves. But there were no Green Sun Princes, then. For some reason, your age as an Exalt is about the same as ours--no Infernal is newer than five years ago. I don't know what we'll become when we come of age. I'm not sure anyone does."

Buffy sighed and swallowed her water in one gulp. "I guess I'm out of luck."

Cyan shrugged back. "It's time we got moving. I can tell you this: the Exalted could command the gods, and the lesser demons. But all they could do with the Yozis was lock them away. We might be able to defeat them, but we will never be like them, not really."

"Y'know," Buffy said, "I think it's for the best."

*****

"I can tell you for certain sure, there's never been a match like this in all of history! Welcome to the arena! Welcome to the first ever gladiatorial combat featuring our Despot, Buffy Summers!"

The crowd roared like a wounded tyrant lizard. They had those here, actual tyrannosaurs. Not around Gem, though, and Buffy wasn't sure if that was good luck or bad. She wondered how she'd match up against one these days.

The arena was a dusty coliseum, vaguely Roman in overall design but partly carved from a crater wall and the rest constructed out of adobe brick. Gold-rush style shops lined the upper limit of the ring and its middle height, so that she felt as if she were in a pistol duel on a gigantic scale. That was a vaguely unnerving thought; she'd never dealt with guns if she could avoid it.

"And in this corner...." She could see the announcer, if not clearly, shouting from a carefully-chosen position high up the wall, a man whose coloration resembled Whisper's description of the Perfect, which she had finally recognized as an aboriginal Australian look. Of course they would exist here, in the deep desert of the South. Creation had every racial type Earth did and some it didn't. "...we have a...Lintha? Lintha Ung...Het Dukanta. Well, Mister Dukanta, if you're really a Lintha pirate you've come one helluva long way to compete with the Despot, I can tell you that. No worries, we can all assure you the Despot doesn't discriminate against Lintha...or Wyld mutants either, for whatever that's worth to you."

Buffy could see why the announcer thought she was up against a mutant. "Dukanta" was tall and lean, with white hair, vaguely greenish skin, and red eyes. His forehead rose high above his brows--not quite like that Hulk villain, but enough that she thought of him. What was that guy called again? This guy, though, this guy she'd heard described. He was Lintha Ng Hut Dukantha, an akuma who worked for Kimbery, who'd been involved in creating the Green Sun Princes in the first place. He'd lost in some early testing against the just-created Infernals, but not by much; he was old and ungodly powerful, pun definitely intended. He was also bound to serve Kimbery absolutely...so what was he really here for?

"So...without further ado...the fight of the Age...begins!" Trumpets blared and firedust flares shot up into the sky.

Best to take this seriously. Kimbery was in trouble with the rest of the Reclamation. She might be trying to get back in their good graces...but probably not. Buffy shot toward Dukantha at top speed, faintly regretting not having finally tried out that hearthstone last night. As it was, she fanned out her hair, coated her body in brass, and bared a pair of fangs that'd make a vampire envious.

She hadn't closed half the distance when Dukantha hit her with a green bolt of energy that left her choking on two lungfuls of water. Before she could respond to that, he was closing on her, daiklaive up and ready to swing at her neck. Not good.

The daiklaive clanged off her neck in a shower of brilliant sparks. Still coughing water out of her lungs, Buffy seized Dukantha's arms in long coils of her hair. He began slashing at it at once, of course, but it gave her a moment to readapt her lungs. No more of that. "Give my regards to Jabba," she said lightly, wrapping a third coil around his neck.

"Jabba?" Dukantha wondered, but the next moment his sword sliced him loose, hacking through her metallic hair with basically no resistance. "Profaner of Kimbery's gifts, I am come at the Great Mother's direction to destroy you and free your Exaltstion so that another may serve her better."

"Been tried," Buffy pointed out. He was doing a number on her hair! She took a brief moment to concentrate. "Here I thought you wanted to congratulate me on the new mansion." Her eyes opened, flaring green, just as a burning sword clanged off her armored skin. She swelled larger with knotted muscle. "You insult She-Hulk's sense of style. She-Hulk smash!"

Buffy didn't have her hands all the way up for a punch when Dukantha drove his heel into her gut and sent her hurtling across the arena.

*****

Giles swore as Buffy went flying. In spite of all the changes she'd gone through since being stranded here, he was still her Watcher, it seemed. Buffy struck the ground twice and rolled another few feet, but she got back up for more.

She was still his Slayer, too.

Buffy rubbed a trickle of blood from her lip. Even through all that armor, Dukantha had managed to split it. What the devil was he? With a snarl, Buffy charged back into the fight, actually loping on her knuckles like an ape. What had this place--?

No, he reminded himself sternly. Not this place. This was and always had been what she was. What every Slayer had been. Buffy expressed it more fully and that was all. Legends such as those told of Saghani Grozny, who had served the Mongol khans, Semiramis the Sorceress-Slayer, and Meghan McCuil...all true. And most of them by far, Slayers the Council had reached late or not at all.

Had the Council held them back from their destiny? Or protected the world from them?

Buffy spun like a dervish and pummeled Dukantha with dozens of blows. Perhaps, he admitted...perhaps both.

The crowd no longer roared. The noise had become so nearly continuous that it throbbed like an engine.

Buffy's fighting prowess was just that, though--combat skill, if expressed in some unusual ways. She charged with unnatural speed; she gave and took blows that could have felled a rhino. Even her new transformations rarely did more than enhance that.

Dukantha did more. Bolts of green fire and watery energy leapt from his hands and sword. Buffy could dodge such blasts, or take them without flinching, but she had nothing to match them. Sooner or later, the Lintha would wear her down.

Giles had read of the akuma's exploits in the libraries of Yu-Shan. More, he could see Dukantha's killing intent with every blow he landed. The Lintha was not here to compete; he was here to kill, using the contest to disguise his purpose. Only, if Buffy could not defeat him--and it was clear that Dukantha's power was greater--what help could an aging Watcher provide?

Giles' hand went to his belt pouch, the one with a single dart coated in Cruciamentum toxin. Buffy had ordered him not to use it unless the world was at stake; it risked destabilizing the balance of power here. Even if it meant watching her die.

Giles held still, one hand inside the pouch.

*****

"Where are we?" Buffy asked Cyan. "What kind of place is this?" Every few feet they passed another sarcophagus, with designs ranging from a simple blackwood coffin marked with a pentagram to a metal hexagon with elaborately-carved islands, clouds, and waves.

"A shortcut," Cyan said unhelpfully.

So far as Buffy could see, the tunnel went on forever in either direction, even though she knew they'd entered at one end. "Don't see how this is a shortcut to anywhere," she muttered.

"This is the Deeper Well," Cyan grumbled back. "It's not used much because it's also part of Sacheverelli. Most of his souls sleep here, even some entire races of First Circles. No one wants any of these beings disturbed."

"You say Sacheverelli," Buffy said with a frown. "Everyone else--"

"Thank you so much for calling attention to my accent," Cyan complained before falling silent, her mouth compressed into a thin line.

"Are these all Sacheverell's souls?" Buffy asked after fifteen minutes had passed in uncomfortable silence. "An awful lot of these are one-of-a-kind."

"Not all," Cyan said impatiently. "There are other sleeping souls here, most Second-Circle. One or two other Third-Circles are supposed to be here, but no one knows whose or which. That way there's much less risk of them being murdered in their sleep and changing their owner. Sacheverelli's own fetich is in here somewhere, but it's carefully hidden. The few of his souls who remain awake want to stay themselves, I suppose. Here," she said at last, coming to an ummuhan.

"You've got to be kidding me," Buffy grumbled.

"Fastest way back to the Conventicle," Cyan said, and laughed. She stepped up to the seated demon and let it devour her.

Buffy released a long, slightly whiny sigh. "Travel by port-a-potty. I'll never understand how it caught on."

*****

Devon felt his body being pieced slowly back together, fragment by agonizing fragment. His eyes could see bits of himself being fetched from inside a tiny, transparent shell, though it looked empty. An hour passed, maybe more. The tiny hand-creatures settled into his ears, his nose, his pores. He could feel them, not so much on him as part of himself. A thin swarm of them buzzed around him at his command.

"I see you're awake," said the young blonde in the fancy dress. "I hoped you'd do better than me, but here we are irregardless."

"What happened?" Devon asked, his voice shaking a little.

"You were Exalted," she said patiently, "called as a Slayer. I'm Buffy Summers...your Watcher."

*****

Buffy wasn't sure how much more of this she could take.

No, seriously: she genuinely was having trouble estimating how much more of a beating Dukantha could inflict on her before she dropped. She was covered in bruises and cuts. Her face was a mass of pain, and her clothes had--yet again--been reduced to a few rags hanging from her armored body. Most of the damage was invisible beneath the quickly-regenerating brass, and pain, like exhaustion, was no longer something that could drag her down into unconsciousness.

Which was convenient when you were trying to keep going so you could save the world, but not so much when you were only supposed to be fighting a bout and you had lost track of how much more it would take to kill you.

For whatever it was worth, the fight was taking its toll on Dukantha, too. He was covered in bloody wounds, and his aura was flaring far more brightly than hers. The other Exalt was, at base, a Dragon-Blood, and while he was old as hell he didn't seem to have spent all that much time learning combat magic. Just...more than Buffy thought she was going to be able to handle.

Every so often he'd unleash a truly devastating attack, and Buffy would stand firm and let it rebound off her in a spray of blinding sparks. Those seemed to have done him the most harm, if she was honest with herself. She'd been overconfident. She'd beaten enemies of Dukantha's caliber before, maybe worse, but she'd been able to retreat to the library or the Magic Box and look up a weakness to exploit. Here she was stuck going ninety rounds with Prince Namor, and she didn't think he'd respect a surrender or follow the rules if she had the ref call a halt.

Dukantha's fires battered at her again, spraying molten brass, and she felt her body shift into a form it hadn't taken before. She was perhaps ten feet tall, which was nothing new, but a great jointed tail sprouted above her butt, arcing up, forward, and down till a stinger glinted in her peripheral vision. The crowd noise, which had grown quiet eventually as their auras made people ill, surged again.

"Nice," Buffy said wearily. "Looks like I'm the Scorpion Queen." She was long past caring what she looked like. If it made Dukantha stop hitting her and preferably fall unconscious, she'd be willing to sprout a monkey's head from her butt. Hopefully it'd go away, but she'd put up with it no matter what. And if she was honest with herself? The scorpion tail was kinda cool.

Buffy thrashed it forward at Dukantha in five lightning-fast strikes. Two missed, two were blocked by his blade. The fifth connected, pumping venom into his arm, but the Lintha shrugged and ripped himself free. For all she could see he was completely immune.

Buffy's vision went double, and for a moment she thought she'd sprouted a second head again. No...she was feeling distinctly woozy. That was a very bad sign. She couldn't be KO'd. She might be dying, but most likely he had poisoned her. She hadn't even noticed when he'd done it.

Buffy stumbled, staggered, and sank to one knee. Weakly she signaled to the referee to stop the match. She was out. She was done.

Dukantha, as she'd expected, didn't care. He didn't even act as if he saw. The akuma lowered his blade, burning with green fire, and rammed it into her guts.


	12. Out of Spiritus Mundi

"Here goes," Faith said. She popped the valve. Liquid helium spurted out, spraying the molten moonsilver as it waited in the mold.

"Should you be doing that by hand?" Angel wondered.

"I got gloves on," Faith said dismissively. Sure, if the stuff touched her it'd freeze her as solid as the liquid-metal Terminator and a lot deader, but that wasn't happening and wasn't gonna. The protective gloves went past her elbow, and really, that was a concession to Fred. The absent-minded professor type was worried about her.

"Wasn't that crown thing you melted into the metal s'posed t' be part of you?" Spike wanted to know.

Faith nodded. "My 'intemperate heart'," she agreed. "It still is, so I'll be leavin' part of me behind when I go. Happens all the time with Graces, Dawn says." She didn't need an eyepatch anyway now.

"Transtator core is complete," Towers of Azure informed her. "It can now be inserted into the computing matrix for programming. When that is complete, place it in the proper setting in the medical cocoon device."

"You guys plannin' on coming back with me?" The vampires had complained of feeling useless here, out of their league. Apparently some baddie had managed to wreck suits of power armor right off their backs. "Portal's nice an' roomy. TARA's coming with."

Spike glanced at Angel. Angel glared at Spike. "We meant to rescue Buffy," Angel said.

"But it sure looks as if she's not needin' a rescue," Spike concluded.

"I'm willing to head back to Earth," Angel said reluctantly. "Did you really cut a deal with Lilah?"

Faith groaned. "Seemed like a good idea at the time. She already had the election in her pocket, and...she managed to put some kind of whammy on all of us. Amy snapped out of it first." She walked around and pried open the mold, removing a moonsilver egg with rods protruding at various odd angles. "Better go pop this in. Sooner it's programmed, the sooner I stop looking like an ass."

Spike chortled and smacked her on the rump. "Your arse was definitely better the way it was. Be good to see it again."

Faith punched him on the shoulder. "You two better be coming back with me then. I've been gone for days now. Who knows what Lilah's been up to?"

**Chapter 69--Out of Spiritus Mundi**

"Aggh!" Amy rushed across the hall as Harmony let out with a godawful screech. All she saw, though, was the ex-vampire hauling something bloody out of her mouth on a hook. Painful but clearly voluntary.

"Harm, what're you--?" The dull red fluid flowed into Harmony's shadow, thickening it. The darkness gained form, gained substance, gained color. And then a second Harmony stood by the first, wearing vamp face.

"New minion!" Harmony chirped, finishing with a cough. "This one's-- _hack!_ \--better!"

"I am _not_ a minion," the vampire Harmony said. "I'm a part of you. Now what'd you want me to do? I'm hungry."

"First," Harmony said sternly, "no killing unless I tell you to."

"Ohhhh, why not? Well have you got any blood?" The creature whined and sniffled until Harmony pulled out a blood bag and handed it to her.

"Is that actually a vampire you?" Amy wondered.

"Not exactly," Harmony said, "but I gotta wonder if vampires were made from things like it somehow. It's a hungry ghost, and it's made out of me! It does what I say and I can even take it over!"

"Harm, are you really sure this is a good idea?" Amy looked the creature up and down; it certainly resembled Harmony exactly. "Controlling vampires is one thing, but making new ones? Or something like them at least."

"I'm _not_ a vampire," it said. "I'm much better than a vampire."

"I'm good at it," Harmony said firmly. "It's a tool. I can use it to fight the bad guys. I might be able to fix the universe with it. It's worth _knowing_ this stuff!"

"Can I kill someone now?" the other Harm asked.

*****

Amy splashed water over her face. She didn't use her hands. She didn't use the plumbing. Water appeared, splashed over her face, and vanished. She wasn't sure why she did it this way, except practice; she wasn't limited by Kate's water bill any more. Hadn't been for months, since just after Faith left.

She walked to the window, went out onto the balcony, and looked down at the city from the tower that had belonged to Wolfram and Hart. The firm had been dissolved by act of Congress, its assets seized by the government for numerous crimes. Meet the new boss; same as the old boss: Lilah had made it their new headquarters and superhuman training facility.

"Having fun?" Amy didn't look around. The dark man behind her sounded like whispers in the shadows.

"I don't have any interest in talking to you." Amy considered stabbing him, then thought better of it. She didn't yet know how to make spirits stay dead. "You've betrayed us again and again."

"And yet I have an interest in you, Amy Madison," Five Days' Darkness said patiently. "You in particular. I'm sorry you mistake that interest for betrayal."

"What else would you call it? You pretended you were on our side. You fed us lies. You let Lilah and then Drusilla get Exalted and then helped them attack us." Amy went ahead and stabbed him in the chest with a shard of ice. So what if it didn't kill him? "What do you call all that?"

"Education."

Amy curled her lip at him. "Even if you really wanted to teach me, I can't trust you."

"No," Five agreed. "Nor can I trust you. You're no monster of malice, Amy, but you lack ethics and you sell cheap. Fortunately for the universe."

Amy snickered. "First time I've heard that. How do you figure?"

"Simple," Five said. "Come with me. I need to show you some things." He led her out the door, and she followed reluctantly. "Amy, the Infernal Exaltations were intended to screw over their recipients. It didn't work out as intended. There are some issues that need resolving, but you have the potential to ascend beyond the beings you know as demons and gods. And we want you to."

"Why?" Amy stopped in the middle of the hallway. "If it's too good to be true...."

"It isn't." Five beckoned her onwards, then grunted irritably when she didn't move. "We need you to ascend in order to save the universe. The perks are worth it. I guarantee it. Come on and let me show you." He stepped into the elevator, and Amy followed with a scowl on her face.

Five tapped out a series of buttons, and another, glowing white, appeared on the pad. He tapped that one as well, and the world faded into white light.

A moment of blinding brilliance passed, leaving a barely visible floor and ceiling, though no walls. "This is the White Room. Traditionally, it serves as a means of communication with the Senior Partners, but since we're on this side...." He shook his head, smiling wryly. "Mesektet's around here somewhere. Don't worry about her. She's my daughter by Erembour. She can take anything you can dish out so far."

"What is she?" Amy wondered. "A demon or a god?" She peered about in the blank sheet of a room but saw nothing.

"None of the above," Five said. "I suppose one could call her a behemoth, but that's just a name we give to entities we don't have another word for. Creations of the Primordials or of Unshaped, offspring of beings of power who fit no one category, even a few creatures designed by Exalts. Mesektet is my daughter. What else matters? Now. Reach out with your mind. Feel the essence of this place. Take it to yourself, and shape it."

"We need guns," Amy said. "Lots and lots of guns." Distant specks appeared on the horizon, rushing towards her.

"Not really," Five warned. "But make them if you like. What I really want from you is a place, a practice place. One day soon you will build worlds. One day further on, you will _be_ one. That is the destiny of the Infernals, Amy, the destiny never meant for you but that you must find anyway." Racks shot past them--revolvers, shotguns, rifles, pistols--and out into the distance again before Amy could touch anything. "It will take some time to solidify the environment you want. I suggest you try something more elaborate and more suited to you personally than a movie reference."

Amy nodded, grunted, and set her jaw. This was real power. "So I'm like a god or something?"

"By the traditional usages of Creation--far greater than a god." He inclined his head to her. "However, if you wish to imagine an Abrahamic God in embryo, you are perhaps not far from a description of yourself. You need to grow in power, and to define your self-concept. Then you will become like the Primordials. This creation is only the beginning--Solars could do it, and in limited ways other Exalts. But it is a beginning."

Amy grinned from ear to ear. "Awesome."

*****

Kate studied herself in the mirror. Herself...himself? No, herself. Too confusing otherwise. At least the back hair looked like it matched now. She flexed substantial but very flat pecs. "Interesting. Don't see the big deal." Her voice rumbled in the upper range of bass.

"Five Days' Darkness said Lunar Exaltations try to pick people who won't be bothered by their bodies changing," Shoat said. "It's not the first priority, but it matters." She plucked at Kate's chest hair.

"Ouch!" Kate frowned briefly at the girl, who backed off a step. "Just my luck I look like a rug as a man. But...yeah, I could use some manscaping, but I'm not disgusted or creeped out. And hey, I'd have been taken seriously by the force if I looked like this." She felt carefully around. "I see how it works. If you can't handle shapeshifting, being a Lunar's not for you. And if you can, I guess for most people what kind doesn't matter too much."

"You're taller," Shoat observed.

"And bigger around," Kate agreed. "But I'm not that different. Men usually are bigger than women." She was about six inches taller like this, which she had to admit was a lot, and the hard work she'd done to get fit for the police had had a lot more visible an effect on these muscles. She poked at her six-pack. "I'm pretty ripped. I can run with this."

Shoat flexed her fingers, and bone blades slid from her knuckles. "Everyone changes," she said wryly. "You get old, you die. Or you stop changing and that's a different way to die. Weird, isn't it?"

"You look like little-girl Wolverine," Kate said with a small chuckle. "And morbid, but I guess it goes with the territory."

"You should've talked to me before I found out I was going to live forever," Shoat said, laughing in return. "At least now I see the funny side of it."

Kate patted her on the head. "The world is getting funnier and funnier these days."

*****

"I just got back!" Gwen Raiden protested. "I mean, I'll be more effective with my powers under control, but I could use a little rest."

"You won't be going alone," Harmony said. "Take any of us you want. This isn't going to be easy."

"You're sending me off after a myth," Gwen protested. "Into the underworld at that. If it were easy I'd wonder where all the monsters went. You're the necromancer; you come with, you and Shoat."

Harmony checked the map. "This is totally going to be an exciting trip," she insisted. "But I don't blame you for wanting help. If you want me along, I'll come."

*****

Robin Wood sank to the mat, breathing heavily. He was bloody, he was bruised, and he felt as if he'd gone ten rounds with the Hulk. But the fact was, he didn't seem that badly hurt. No broken bones, no major lacerations, just scrapes and bruises.

"I didn't go easy on you," Riley said. "You're not quite up on my power level, but you're close. You just mostly channeled it into making yourself tougher. I think I could stab you in the chest and you'd pass out for a few minutes, then wake up fine."

"Let's not try the experiment right now," Robin wheezed, and struggled to his feet. "So...they say I can't ever be anything but an Infernal. And there are what, forty-five Exaltations left for that? Call me modest, but I don't think I'm badass enough to get one."

Riley shrugged. "Work at it. In the meanwhile, there's a lot more you can learn." He set the warhammer back on its rack. He looked like he meant to make some suggestions, but just then three women strolled in, looking excessively casual. One was Marie Santangelo; the other two had deep red skin like smoldering coals and hair black as soot.

"Andreia, Susana...Santangelo," Riley stammered out. The Brazilian natives--the Amazons, the squad had come to call them--didn't have last names, and their real names were nigh-unpronounceable. "You ladies are on training rotation. I know you get the pregnancy cravings, but--"

"We are here for training," one of the two Robin didn't know said in a thick accent. "You will teach us how to not get so much tired."

"We've got to get Lilah to release more Exaltations," Santangelo said. "We're wearing you out even with your abilities, we have trouble learning important techniques, and we're elementally-unbalanced. But Andreia is absolutely right; we need your powers of not wearing out too. And you need more acrobatics in your life." She blushed faintly beneath her unnatural pallor. "Robin, you're welcome to stay."

Robin started to say he'd go, then halted. What did he have to lose? He wasn't a married man; he'd spent his younger years crusading against the undead. And the women knew by now how far they could go with mortals without hurting them; they could do more with him. "Don't mind if I do. Take a little of the stress off you, Riley?"

"Just don't expect me to kiss him," Riley joked at the girls, who snickered.

Santangelo gave him a considering look, then a wink. "If I were asking you to take one for the team, I'd suggest you go after Lilah. _Someone's_ got to persuade her."

"Something bad is coming," Susana agreed. "We need our whole strength to fight it, but your president only wants her own power."

Riley began to pull his shirt off. From beneath the fabric came his response: "I guess I could try that. Only turnoff is the horrific evil, after all."

*****

"Hello," the little girl said, and sat down in one of the crystal chairs. "You must be Amy Madison."

"You must be Mesektet," Amy responded. She and Five Days Darkness were sitting across the table from one another sipping conjured Pepsis and eating conjured ice cream. The table was a delicate filigree of crystal that stood in a castle composed of a shimmering maze, its walls shaped from diamond and emerald and ruby and sapphire.

One other item sat on the table, a little domed birdcage. Instead of a bird it contained a tiny copy of her mother, who screamed without any sound and beat at the bars. It wasn't the real Catherine Madison--at least Amy didn't think so--but it was the closest copy of her mind Amy could imagine. She'd thought she'd want to zap her mom over and over, but holding her like this was more than enough satisfaction.

"I like what you've done with the place," Mesektet said, smiling. "I might let you leave it this way. Can I hurt her?"

"Feel free," Amy said, and gave her a thumbs up. "I can't think of anything too bad to do to my mother. She deserves it."

"But you're leaving her alone," Mesektet said with a frown. "Why is that?"

Amy shrugged and took a bite of ice cream. "She's under my power here. I can do whatever I want to her whenever I want. There's no rush."

"Do you really think of this as your mother?" Five studied Amy's expression. "Her souls are elsewhere; this is a construct."

"If she died and went to Lethe," Amy said, "then her soul's in some random baby, right? Who doesn't remember a thing? Thinks she's a completely new person?"

Five nodded. "If that's what happened to her, yes. But I don't see why you'd presume that. She might not even be dead." He reached out and ran a hand over the cage.

"If she's not that baby, and I can't see how she would be," Amy explained, "then her identity's not with her soul. It's with her mind--and her mind is here even if it's somewhere else too. This _is_ my mother. Sure, it's a paradox. Magic is like that."

Five scratched his head. "I suppose I can see that. Traditionally we thought of a human identity as following her hun soul--but then we said the same of the Exaltation, even called it the Third Soul, since it also carried the person's memories. So I suppose by our own standards a person can be in more than one life at a time. I...it still seems odd to suppose that you could create infinite copies of your mother to imprison."

"Odd?" Mesektet laughed. "I would call it amusing myself." She knocked the cage over and rolled it around on the table, forcing Catherine to struggle and flail. "Of course, they do say I'm evil." Five Days' Darkness made a sort of coughing laugh and ruffled her hair.

"I don't need infinite copies," Amy said. "One's plenty." She picked up the cage and studied the little copy of her mother.

 ** _You have_ my _approval,_** Halfrek said.

 _Thanks,_ Amy answered, and slammed the cage into the wall.

*****

"They worry," Drusilla said. "Not I. The Loom is my plaything and mine alone."

Lilah leaned back into the big chair, smiling. "And we like it that way, so long as you don't mess around with my bureaucracy too much." Drusilla had just sat through a meeting in the Oval Office, _stark naked_ , and all anyone else had seen was the White House Chief of Staff. Lilah hadn't asked for such a view, but she appreciated the gesture.

Drusilla waved a dismissive hand. "You needn't worry, Grandmum. I have all the amusements I need. The farmer boy. He fancies you. Thinks you'll listen to him if he offers his body."

"Depends on what he has to say," Lilah mused. "What's he want out of me?" She glanced out the window. Gardeners roved about here and there.

"Thinks you're not getting ready. The dead are rising, the Last Trump sounding, and Ms. Antichrist doesn't have her army about her." She didn't sound as unconcerned as she claimed. "Open the bottle, he says. Let the genies out, he says. Doesn't he know what tricksters and hucksters and monsters the djinn are? Yes, yes, Miss Edith. I'll grant your wishes."

"This bottle is staying as tightly closed as I can keep it," Lilah said firmly. "No more fooling around, Drusilla. You nearly died, and there are far more Exaltations loose than I'd prefer. If I could have gotten them to serve willingly, gotten their trust....Ah well." If she could work out how the Prison functioned, she'd recall all the Exaltations save hers. Well, and Dru's. Probably not Dru's.

"You're ready for the great dark, then?" Drusilla smiled and tweaked Lilah's nose.

"Drusilla, you don't seem to comprehend. I _am_ the great dark. And that's what's going to save the world." Dru tilted her head and frowned uncertainly at her, then got up and strode over to the window. "Everything's going to be fine, Dru."

The response came in the delicate voice of a small, frightened child. "Are you sure?"

*****

Harmony doodled diagrams as she sang along to N Sync. "I wanna see you out that door, baby bye bye bye...." Hmm, no. "If Oblivion is metaphorically a black hole then we can model death as gravity--no,the event horizon. But...just another player in your game for two...from your own perspective you never actually cross the horizon...maybe quantum tunneling takes you through Lethe?"

She glanced down at the rubber-sheet gravity diagram festooned with unicorns and sparkly stars. "Life sacrifices life to the maw to maintain its own low-entropy state above the horizon...bye bye bye...." She scribbled some equations and Greek letters above the sheet. "Epsilon chi theta...no...if they want to end their existence they're going about it all wrong. The Neverborn...maybe worship Oblivion themselves? Sacrifice to it?"

Shoat poked her head in. "Harmony?"

"Oh hi! Just working something out in my head. Come on in!" She scrawled another equation on the paper and set the pencil down.

"Have you eaten anything today?" Shoat asked. "The kitchen staff hasn't seen you."

"I totally had...I..." Her stomach did feel empty, now that she thought of it. There was no rush. "I forgot."

"You should go eat, Harm." Shoat sat down but made no move to offer her anything. Maybe she couldn't.

"I'm not hungry," Harmony said. She hadn't felt hungry since she pulled her shadow out. Maybe it was eating for her? Rho omicron sigma..."Necromancy as a sacrifice to the void...I burn energy to keep dead things a little bit alive...."

"Harm?" Shoat sounded worried. "Harm, come eat with me. Tell me about this stuff on the way."

Harm shrugged. "Sure, why not?" She picked up the notebook. "The Neverborn don't matter," she said, opening the door. "I mean, they do some damage, but they're just burning energy to hold position above the event horizon. The black hole's the problem. Life itself is totes a kind of sacrifice to death, has been since the Primordial War."

Shoat narrowed her eyes and nodded. "Go on. It sounds familiar somehow." She handed Harmony a water bottle.

Harm swallowed and immediately realized her throat was dry from the ouch. How long had she been working on the problem? "We sacrifice a little bit more to animate the dead, or control them. But--"

"I thought the Neverborn wanted death," Shoat queried. "That when the world was gone they could go too."

"Well...they will, when they run out of energy," Harm answered. "The Neverborn don't know what they want. It's like brain damage. They don't have the energy to think straight."

"What if we gave them more?" Shoat asked.

"Oh, that'd be way too much--"

*****

"Harmony? I thought--"

"Don't," she told Oz, pinning him against the office wall. "I don't. Live a little. Let me live a little."

"But you're human now," Oz said, like an idiot. She bit his lip hard, drawing a trickle of blood. Not enough.

Harmony didn't know what it was like--no, that was wrong. Harmony knew what it was like to be dead and crave life. She just didn't care. She wouldn't let Harm kill. Harm ripped her shirt over her head and roughly shoved Oz's hands onto her tits. "I'm cold," she said. "Warm me up. C'mon Oz. Warm me up."

She could feel his crotch grow warm against hers. It was a start. "Harm, this isn't--" She kissed him again. God she was hungry. For him, for food, for blood, for _everything_.

Oz started to change beneath her. She either had him really turned on or really mad. Hair bristled down his cheeks, on his chest. "Yeah," she said. "Yeah. Let's get rough."

This was gonna be totally awesome.

*****

"Lilah is going to clog the courts," Kate said. The unfamiliar rumble of her voice was at least ceasing to startle. She had a badge on again, even if it was Lilah's doing. "We're going to have to counter that. If we can't get sentences then we have to haul 'em in. Over and over if we have to. Fill the cells and keep 'em full."

"Won't that give her an excuse to attack police brutality?" a man in the front row asked.

"It will," Kate agreed. "We have to be cautious. Keep the use of force to a minimum, but arrest. Arrest over and over again. The fuller the jails are the more out of touch she looks."

This was a gamble. It ran dangerously close to the zombie cops on the streets not long ago. But if Lilah took one extreme, she'd have to take the other--not to make a point but to counter the leaks in the system. If Lilah had her way, real murderers and thieves would flood the streets, using genuine problems of discrimination, corruption, and excessive force as an excuse for her own political game.

Kate couldn't allow that. At the same time, she had to keep the police themselves looking squeaky clean and _being_ as clean as possible.

She was going to have to kill. To prowl the streets using deadly force, as an animal who wouldn't be pegged as a cop. Any violent criminal she saw would die between her teeth.

It was a perversion of the system. She wasn't the good guy any more, and it was Lilah Morgan's fault.

One day the flesh in her mouth would be Lilah's heart.

*****

"I don't like the trends I'm seeing," Buffybot said.

"You're telling me?" Lorne felt sick enough to turn green, if he hadn't been already. "Lilah's got our friends so obsessed with taking her down they're forgetting they're supposed to help the helpless. We've been down this road before with Angel, Synthia, and it almost ended on a very bad note."

"That too," Buffybot agreed, and pointed to the computer. Lorne squinted. His eyes weren't the best when it came to screens.

"Oh," he said. "Get the ball-gag, Synthie, cause we've got a fat lady to keep quiet."

Harmony and Shoat weren't the only ones with undead minions. The graveyards and the morgues were emptying out. When there was no more room in hell....

Yeah, there was no good last line to that old song.


	13. In This Valley of Dying Stars

Faith's eyes were gummy. She lifted her hands slowly and rubbed them. The darkness didn't clear. "Lights? Anybody?" She ought to be able to see in any ordinary darkness.

"Please exit the chrysalis. Your treatment is complete." The voice was high but toneless. Treatment? Oh. Oh, yeah.

Faith fumbled about, found a hazy membrane inches in front of her face. She tore it, and it collapsed onto her. That better have been what she was supposed to do. She sat up on the bench, naked. The room was darkened, but not pitch black as she'd thought. Most of her lower body seemed to be miss--right, it had worked! Faith flexed her human legs, breathed air into a single set of human lungs, felt her hands around her smooth, tailless human ass. Yes!

"Towers? What time is it?"

"It is twenty minutes after midnight," answered a richer voice. "Calibration is underway. I will wake your friends if you so desire."

Faith thought that over as she tore away the cocoon. "Naw," she finally said. "This may be my last chance for a good night's sleep for a while. I'm gonna get a look at the sky, then rest. I'll leave in the morning."

*****

Oz opened his eyes slowly to find himself naked and draped across a desk. "Ouch," he said. His feet were full of pins and needles. He began to sit up, then caught sight of an equally naked Harmony Kendall, still in vamp face. She was covered in scratches and bruises, but she was snoring faintly.

Come to think of it, he looked a little worse for wear himself. What had happened last night? He didn't normally care much for Harmony, but it sure looked as if they'd had sex. In monstrous forms, no less--and when had she been turned again, anyway? Also, if she was snoring, didn't that mean she was breathing?

Oz decided the simplest course of action was to poke her. He prodded her in the ribs. Harmony rolled over, muttered something about rare steak, and went back to snoring. Oz shrugged, got into his jeans--commando, since his boxers were in tatters--and left the office, closing the door behind him. She'd be all right.

He collided with Harmony. Awake, fully-dressed human Harmony, with dark circles under her eyes. "Hey," she said uncertainly. "Have you seen another me anywhere? She was supposed to be in my room."

Oz thought about that for a moment. "We had sex," he said simply. "She's asleep in there."

"You what?" Harmony blushed bright red. "I didn't...she didn't tell me...I'm sorry!"

Oz shrugged. "I don't mind." He wanted to reassure her that she was good in bed, but the truth was he didn't remember a thing. "She didn't mind either. Is that okay?"

Harmony nodded weakly and opened the door. "Harm? You awake in there?"

The other version of her met her face to face in the doorway. "I'm awake. I need to tinkle. Or maybe you need to, I'm not sure. You look like hell. Have you slept?"

"Slept? No. Why?"

The vampire Harmony rolled her eyes. "You totally need me inside you. You're a wreck without me."

"Well, y-you don't need to be wandering around yourself," Harmony said defensively. She opened her mouth and inhaled, and the second Harmony dissolved into bloody vapor and vanished inside her. "Sorry about that, Oz," she began, then concluded with "Eep! Gotta go!" and darted away.

Oz shook his head. The Exalted were strange. Life was strange. "See you around," he said to the air.

**Chapter 70--In This Valley of Dying Stars**

The mantis turned its head slightly as the fly settled nearby, but made no other motion. That was its way of hunting; that was how it evaded the prey's notice. Its scythelike arms flashed out--

And Kate Lockley caught it in mid-strike, ripped off the tiny, deadly arms, and bit off its head and torso. "It doesn't have to be big," she told Buffybot once she was done chewing. "I can shrink down and be a mantis now--or I can copy just its arms. Lots of little bitty creatures have useful abilities that I can scale up."

"What about the square-cube law?" Buffybot asked.

"Doesn't seem to apply." Kate's forearms sprouted into huge serrated blades. "The better to decapitate vampires with. I hated running off to Cape Kennedy, but it's where we touched the moon from. Hopefully it'll do us some good."

"Can you mimic anything about the animals you've hunted?" Buffybot wondered. "Can you be the size of that bug?"

Kate considered that. "Y'know, I'll have to try. Fred didn't mention size except in terms of what I can hunt."

She was about to make the attempt when Buffybot said, "Someone's taking bodies from the city morgues." That much of a non sequitur left her speechless. "It isn't Harmony and Shoat," Buffybot added about a minute later. "I've accounted for them."

"Police?" Kate managed at last. "Are they making zombie police again?"

"I don't think so," Buffybot said. "There are no signs of additional police on the force. There's no place for them to be hiding bodies either. However they are trying to cover up the disappearances."

"Not a surprise there," Kate deadpanned. "Probably they just want to avoid publicity, but who knows? Is there a pattern to the losses?"

"A very simple one," Buffybot said. "Geographical sequence, south to north and east to west. The Good Samaritan Hospital should be next."

"That was too...they're not even trying to cover it up." Kate began to pace back and forth. "Well, we're going there tonight. Undercover. Is there any way you can hide?"

"I've got lots of ways to hide!" the robot bubbled. "Here's the newest!" She shimmered with white flickering light and faded away. "Don't worry, I'm still here!"

What in the hell? "How long have you been able to do that? Who modified you?"

"About two days," Buffybot answered in a high-pitched, upset tone, "and no one! No one's opened me up for anything but routine maintenance in weeks."

"Did Warren build you with...with machines to change you around inside?" It was a long shot, but no one knew how he'd built a sapient robot either.

"If he did, he didn't tell me," Buffybot said, and reappeared, tugging at her hair. "My specifications aren't complete, though."

Kate groaned and banged her head once against the wall. "Let's not look a gift horse in the mouth. We'll examine you when we've finished at the morgue."

"All right," Buffybot said, suddenly chipper again. Kate sighed. Sometimes the robot seemed self-aware, but where her own emotions were concerned she was all but oblivious. "See if you can shrink!"

*****

So that was how, a few hours later, Buffybot came to be invisibly--and silently, thank God--ensconced in the morgue, with Kate perched atop a shelf, about six inches high with dragonfly wings just as wide. Harmony had laughed and called her a fairy princess before saying something really ominous about the void in a tone that suggested makeup and frilly dresses were involved.

For the moment, all the bodies were still present. No monsters had eaten then, no cops had stolen them, and none had arisen and walked out under their own power. Must be an off night for weird things.

"The hospital has now been closed to visitors for one hour," Buffybot reported, "and you can alert us to any emergencies by listening to the radio, so we can talk quietly."

Kate leaned over the side and looked down. "I don't guess you have any ideas about why you're developing these new capabilities?"

"I don't," Buffybot said, "except that maybe it's related to the crystal thingie Amy thinks is my CPU. She said it might be ancient supertech, but we couldn't figure out where it came from."

Kate began, "That sounds--", but at that point a crackling, rushing noise cut her off, and a portal in the green and purple shades of a bruise erupted out of the corner. Shambling figures made their way out of it, whirring and clanking.

"Targets present," said one of the not-Borg. "Gather all corpses and return."

Kate's first impulse was to attack, but then they'd learn nothing. These...things...looked far more rotten than even movie Borg, as if they were mechanically-augmented zombies. It was a wonder that one could talk. Instead, she made a quick gesture to Buffybot and dove off the shelf, flitting through the portal before she had time to think twice.

She'd gotten maybe a foot before she collapsed, coughing, onto a pile of rusted wreckage. Kate felt an invisible hand close around her, so at least she wasn't alone, but the air--she couldn't--

She could. Though the surrounding smog was so thick Kate could barely see an inch in front of her and could taste grit on her tongue, her lungs had adapted to process it. Somehow.

"I don't like this place," Buffybot whimpered. "Is this the scrap heap both Spike and Xander independently warned me about?"

Kate squinted. Through the shifting miasma she made out heaps of plastic and metal, still-sparking boards of crystal circuits and half-melted dolls, wrecked mattresses with rat skeletons twisted through the fluff, shelves and doors and broken glass....

"It sure looks like it," she admitted. "But you're not broken and we're not staying." She flitted into the air, hovering at Buffybot's shoulder. The portal still spun and growled. "Get behind something. We'll follow those things when they come back with the bodies. This is one hell of a hell dimension," she grumbled, "and I'll bet you my life savings they're in league with Lilah Morgan."

*****

Riley woke up with a start. He was tangled up with...not Sam. One of the squad? He pushed himself up to hands and knees. No, the squad all had more muscle definition. Lilah? Santangelo had suggested he try getting into the President's pants. Wasn't she taller?

The woman next to him rolled slowly over and smiled, eyes still half-closed. "Greet the morning with Miss Edith and I?" Fingers with nails like razors ran across his cheek. "Don't take the vapors. Grandmum isn't exclusive, nor my Spike, and Daddy hasn't laid hands on me in ages. I miss Daddy's touch." While Riley tried to absorb this unwanted lump of information, Drusilla slid her tongue into his mouth and wrapped delicate fingers around his manhood, which was never at less than half-mast any more. "The devils in my head sing true," she murmured with her nose pressed against his. "You're quite the lover now your chains are snapped."

"How--?" Riley began, struggling to focus his sleep-clogged brain. "I don't remember how we...how we...stop that!"

Drusilla winked at him and took her hand away. "You asked very nicely if Grandmum wanted drinks." Darla and Lilah seemed hardly distinguishable to her anymore. "She said she'd enjoy that, so long as I was permitted to join in. The drinking, that is. After you were well sloshed I asked if I might make proof of you, to see if you were fit for a queen's bed. You were, but she had quite gone asleep."

"I didn't...did...stop that!" Riley protested again.

Once more she drew her hand away. "Yet it wants milking. See? 'Twill grow sore without."

"Never mind that," Riley insisted. "Did I really agree to this or did you put me in your thrall?" He searched around for his clothes, but the room was a tumbled nest of blankets.

Drusilla pouted at him. "You shan't make me cross and 'scape my wrath, peasant boy. I cannot touch your thoughts now, though soon again perhaps. You had drunk one drink when you began to shout sweet words and slap at me. I thought I had enticed you fairly."

Riley groaned and hung his head. Now he remembered that, a little. "Drusilla, I was angry, not...I wasn't coming on to you."

Drusilla looked down at his dick again and raised one eyebrow. "But you hurt me so sweetly. Can you not see how I might take it all awry?"

Riley wrapped the blankets around himself and sighed. "I guess I can at that." Drusilla had, from all he'd heard, never had a sexual relationship before Angelus; all she knew about was his twisted obsession with pain. Even for a vampire she was kinky. God, what had he done to make her think he was good in bed? "I didn't mean it that way. From what I remember I was angry because you kept defending your murders."

Drusilla's pout grew deeper. "I did not...I misunderstood you altogether. And you seemed to enjoy our play. I didn't intend...." Fat drops of water began to trickle onto the blankets. "...intend to do you any wrong...."

Jesus! He'd thought Drusilla was so far gone to madness that her soul made no difference to her. Riley remembered the heat in her voice, the flush in her cheeks, her screaming at him, insisting that anything the Whirlwind had done they'd done by right, that Europe had deserved to be bled dry. That was when he'd slapped her, finally. He shouldn't have, but...and then things had gotten all twisted around somehow...obviously. And now she was crying because she thought she hadn't respected his consent? He sighed and put an arm around her.

"Drusilla, anything you did wrong last night I did too. We were both drunk, we misread each other's signals, and then we apparently both had a good time. But I wasn't coming on to you, not at first anyway. I hit you because I was angry, not to turn you on."

She stared at him. "Is there a difference then?"

"Wh--yes, there's a difference!" She poked at the tented wet spot he was making in her sheet. "Drusilla, that's pretty much a constant now. I'm sorry it confused you."

Drusilla nodded. "The dead are walking, Riley. Grandmum won't see it. The stars are falling and the earth is bleeding and the machines are taking us all asunder. We will remake the world, and that's a fright...but it will need remaking after what's to come."

"Then you agree with me?" She nodded and put her hand on his chest instead. "Maybe if we speak to her together...or should we just take it ourselves?"

"I cannot see," Drusilla said. "Won't you hold me? We will speak more of this matter, I swear it, but let me touch you. Please?"

Riley studied her face. It could all be an act. She'd been a liar with few equals. A tear broke free from her left eye and rolled down her cheek. If she kept up the act while they saved the world, would it even still be an act at that point? Or just an action taken, regardless of her reasons?

Riley kissed her gently on the lips. With a sudden giggle, she shoved him onto his back and climbed atop him, adding fresh scratches to the faint lines on his chest. She laughed as she rode him, and he managed to smack her butt till bright red marks curled around her hips.

Her eyes never grew dry, though, the whole time.

*****

"Five," Gwen said. The midnight-black deity turned to face her and Lorne. "We need to talk about Harmony."

"This necromancy gig," Lorne said nervously. "I'm all for letting bygones do their bygone-ness, but, Night Show, the things she talks about...."

Five Days' Darkness folded his arms. "No one else seems concerned," he muttered.

"She's talking about her magic like it's a religion. A science too, somehow, but...sacrifices to the Abyss?" Gwen shook her head. "That's freaky cultist talk."

Five clenched and unclenched two fists. "It is. Somehow she's managed to fix her course by the one school of necromancy that never had a good practitioner. The Ajaian school treated it as a science of magic, no different from sorcery. The Shizuans saw it as an act of war, of violence against the Underworld's darkness and death. Both could be aimed at good goals, though the means were always doubtful, of course. But the school of the Maw openly gave their worship to the Neverborn, or to Oblivion itself." He covered his face with a third hand and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Everything else has gone wrong, and so naturally this is the school that calls to her."

Lorne shrugged helplessly. "Well, she's gathering up the band to go find something powerful," he said. "Her, Shoat, Santangelo, and anyone else who she can get. She called it the Mantle of Soot. Whatever that is."

Five's chest began to heave, and at first Gwen thought he was sobbing. Then he burst out in gales of laughter. "Let her look! It's a wild goose chase. The Mantle of Soot never existed. Thank all good powers Brigid prevented that."

"What is it?" Gwen asked. "Or what would it be, anyway?"

"The Mantle of Brigid, the First Sorceress," Five said, "increased a sorceror's power immensely, even let her access spells of a higher circle. Perhaps Brigid wanted to make sure no one ever had such power over the Underworld, though necromancy was barely a concept in her time. Rather than let it be buried with her and spawn a copy in the ghostly realm, Brigid passed the Mantle down to her students. It was lost for a while in the Usurpation, but the Scarlet Empress owned it till just before Creation ended. No Mantle of Soot ever came into being, and I thank God or Fate or Time or whatever that it didn't. Harmony is wasting her time searching for it."

"Should I go with her, then?" Gwen didn't like the idea of getting involved in a boondoggle right now.

"It'll give her a chance to hone her powers," Five said, "and anyone else who goes with her. She needs to learn as much as she can and be ready for whatever's coming, because something surely is. I'd appreciate it if you went to help."

Gwen grumbled, but said, "Fine. Who knows, maybe I'll come back an Exalt too."

She was being sarcastic, but Five nodded. "Indeed. Who knows?"

*****

Amy wandered in costume through the intensive care ward. There was only so much she could do. Doctors flocked around her whenever she appeared, and nurses, and any patients well enough to move. But her energy was so limited.

"This one?" she asked, pointing to a patient swathed in bandages.

"Severe burns. Not expected to live," a nurse said. Amy nodded and stretched out her hand over him, though it wasn't necessary. The red, raw edges of the wounds receded beneath the cloth.

"Why don't you come more often?" a surgeon demanded. "You can save so many lives!"

"My powers have limits," Amy said for the umpteenth time. "I have only so much energy. To increase it, I have to train, and there are other crises in the world that need seeing to. If I stop a thirty-car pileup or a terrorist bombing,I may be saving just as many lives as I can here. More, even. I come as often as I can." She didn't mention having to save the world.

The surgeon nodded unhappily. He, at least, understood. Maybe he realized that they weren't so different, that just like her he could only spend so much of his energy, his effort, his _life_ before having to retreat and recuperate.

"I can manage one more," she said. "Remember, it doesn't have to be an injury. Got any cystic fibrosis cases? ALS? These people here might die tonight, but they also might live. Other people have time limits and then it's over."

"We've got a pancreatic cancer case up one floor. It hit her hard and fast," said a grey-haired doctor, "and we can't operate."

Amy nodded and pointed to the elevator. She sagged against the wall on the way up. She loved doing this, but it was so incredibly draining. What she hadn't said, what she hadn't learned till the election was over and it was too late, was that the people whose wishes she granted had to obey one order or suffer, and the ones she healed were also made to adore her. She didn't have to ask anything of them, and most people would have loved her for their cure anyway, but if she'd been able to tell the electors "Vote Republican or be ruined", Lilah would never have come to power. Of course, Bush Junior would have, so it was a choice of evils, but she was pretty sure Bush wouldn't have sold the planet out to demons. Tough call.

She was halfway down the hall when she spotted a pregnant woman slumped in a chair, sobbing. "Fetus has bilateral renal agenesis," a redhaired nurse said. "Tends to cause other defects and is virtually always fatal. We can't--"

"How long?" Amy broke in.

"He'll live to be born, then die a day or two after," said the nurse. "Another three months if she keeps the pregnancy. By that time there'll be more damage, though. Amniotic fluid issues."

Amy broke away from the gaggle of doctors and knelt in front of the woman. "I swear I'll be back within the week and cure your son," she said. "I have someone with pancreatic cancer tonight and then I'll have to stop. I swear," Amy insisted when the woman clutched her by the arm. "I will cure him."

The woman doubled over and began to wail. "How long has the cancer case got?" Amy asked desperately.

"Her pancreas is shot," said the grey-haired doctor. "Necrotizing tissue, no enzyme production at all. She might live the week on intravenous fluids and antibiotics or she might die tonight."

Amy stared back and forth between the doctor and the nurse. "Fuck it," she said. She placed her hands on the woman's belly. "Be healed," she intoned; lots of people needed the reassurance. The energy flowed out of her, leaving her drained. "Help me up," she grunted.

A pair of nurses lifted her to her feet. Once there, she was able to make herself walk on down the hall. "I thought you said--" the grey-haired doctor began.

"I was mistaken," she lied. The cancer patient wasn't as wasted as some; the illness had cut her down with brutal speed but without a long battle to wear her down. Amy placed her hands on the unconscious woman's arms. "Be healed," she said.

Darkness dragged her under.

*****

Harmony fumbled with the map and the texts. Maybe she should've scanned them, but her phone had a teeny screen. "Okay," she said. "Everyone ready?" When no one objected she opened the door. Wolfram & Hart didn't maintain many permanent dimensional portals, but the boundary between life and death was thin here.

"Five says we're wasting our time," Shoat said after they were already through. Santangelo and Gwen nodded agreement.

"He knows a lot, but he doesn't know everything." Harmony held up a printed-out piece of paper. "'The Shroud of Ramone was a failed attempt to duplicate the Mantle of Soot,'" she read, and handed that one to Shoat. "Pass it on. 'The Shroud was woven in the amphiskiopolis called the Infinite Prison,'" she quoted from another sheet, and handed that one to Shoat too. "'The Infinite Prison moves around the Labyrinth but can often be found in the vicinity of the destroyed underworld city of Cadaverous, where remains of the previous world can sometimes be found.' Aaaand 'Cadaverous and Ravenous are thought to be near the ancient tomb of the sorceress Silur, whose education proceeded in a direct line from Brigid, the First Sorceress.' You guys follow?"

"Brigid wasn't buried with the Mantle, but you think Silur was?" Gwen had gone pale as if she hadn't considered such an idea.

"I traced it back," Harmony said. "It makes sense. It doesn't matter who the Mantle was buried with so long as it was buried. And Silur died in the Usurpation just before the Mantle was lost."

"They buried it with her but lost the records," Santangelo said, understanding. Harmony bobbed her head up and down. "So down we go?" Santangelo gave out a resigned sigh.

"Yup," Harmony said. "Void Circle, here I come."


	14. World Not World

"I thought it'd be a matter of saying the words," Faith grumbled.

"Not quite," Xander said. His hand touched her shoulder, and he pointed. "We need a place almost free of the Loom of Fate's influence. But we're sailing into a maze of Wyld zones during Calibration. It won't be long."

The tangle of islands that they were sailing through weren't part of any major nation. Some held city-states, others lacked human life entirely, while still others sheltered "barbarians" who might be anything from a few struggling hunters with stone tools to Waterworld-style pirates running decaying Shogunate vessels.

The clouds gathering overhead shaped themselves like angry thunderbirds and thrashing sharks and mobsters carrying tommy guns--no joke. In the distance two tall islands swam freely among the others as if unconnected to the ocean floor. Another's trees had leaves of brilliant blue. Great serpents and mermaids swam the waters between. Civilization didn't take root here because very little could; the Wyld made for unstable bedrock.

The great grey mobster cloud drew closer. "Get anyone who's not Exalted indoors," Faith warned. "I don't like this."

Xander struck a dramatic pose, and images sprang to life across the visible deck, Buffy and Giles and Willow and Gunn and...was that Faith?...all sketched out in golden light. "All mortal personnel," Xander boomed out in a multitude of deep, deep voices, "take cover. Wyld phenomenon ahead." His words echoed through the towers, kept clear by the power of his shining anima.

"Andre the Giant?" Faith questioned.

"I am the Dread Pirate Roberts," Xander said, his voice no longer echoing but still unnaturally deep, and Faith laughed till she had to hold her sides. Thunder rumbled.

As far as Faith could see, people scurried for the doors to get inside. Even roofed pavilions largely emptied; who could know what the Wyld might do? Thunder sounded again. Where was the lightning, though?

Rain began pounding on the deck with abrupt thunder of its own, sending water spraying in every direction. A drop zinged past Faith, creasing her arm, which stung and bled. "Damn," she growled. She grabbed Xander's arm and together they dove behind the cover of a tower. "Raining bullets. I've seen it all now."

"There's no door here," Xander said uneasily.

Faith shook her head and reached behind her to touch the panel. "There is," she said firmly, and a hatch slid open at their backs. "Don't think that'll be much use at home--no Wyld zones I know of--but I know my way around chaos now." The room was full of whirring machinery; she hadn't taken any time to think what might be inside. "Gun turret?"

Xander nodded. "Got it in one." He glanced at a viewscreen that showed rain ricocheting off the towers. "Couldn't be too much worse than this, I guess."

Faith shrugged. "It could turn to acid and melt the hull." She very carefully didn't visualize that. "It could turn anyone it touches to monsters." Or that. "Or it could just make pretty flowers grow on deck."

"Dawn says she can make this part of the Wyld move so that we end up ahead of the Black Fleet," Xander said thoughtfully. "I'm considering it. It might be the safest alternative."

"We could appear someplace more dangerous," Faith warned him. "Next to it, anyway."

"Fred thinks you should go before we do it, if you can. We're more likely to find a suitable place here."

Faith nodded. "Considering where I ended up when I came here, I wouldn't be surprised. Oh, hey!" The rain had stopped, and she opened the hatch.

Pink and purple flowers covered the deck as far as she could see.

**Chapter 71--World Not World**

"This?" Pavayne laughed. "This is what comes against me? Hello, little buttercup. I sense the guilt on you, sure, but a little snippet like you no doubt came by it sneaking into nurseries. Do you know who I am?"

The blond girl lifted her chin as if she felt superior to him. Fool. "Know what? I don't care." And she bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. She was afraid of him, whatever she said.

"i am the Reaper. I am Matthias Pav--" The little blond child blew out a pink cloud of frozen mist onto her hand. "Pavayne. I killed more men and women than...what are you sneering at, little trollop?"

The frozen hand plunged into his chest and drew out a glass-clear cleaver wreathed in pale blue flame. It was easily four feet long, never mind that it had just been pulled from his chest. To Pavayne's astonishment, rather than strike at him, the girl shrieked, "Woot woot!" and did a little dance.

Pavayne made a face and a gesture, and the little fool's clothes evaporated into mist. The sword remained, though, and the girl's brows drew together in a scowl. She lifted the blade as if it were made of foil. He opened his mouth and--

The blade sliced through his middle and cut him in two. As his torso slipped off to the left, he felt a force draw him forward, wrenching his ethereal body into the sword. _At least,_ he thought, _I need not fear hell._

Then nothing.

*****

Kate Lockley and the Buffybot fled at top speed across the shifting junkpile that constituted the floor of this...dimension they were in. They slipped. They stumbled. They kept going.

They'd made it to within sight of the cyborg zombies' destination: a city of cracked, blackened crystal. Then the creatures now pursuing them had risen from behind its walls.

"What the frilly heck are those?" Buffybot yelled as she slipped and went careening down a pile of oily scrap. It wasn't a bad question; the tentacled spheroids resembled robotic octopi or jellyfish, but they flew through the air at a ridiculously fast pace.

"Dunno," Kate said, "but we're out of sight from the city now." Her revolver appeared in her hand, merged within her grip, and she fired six times in quick succession. Sprays of sparks and metal flew from six impact points, and six octobots slammed backwards into the mass of the swarm. "Whatever you've got, I'd use it now."

Buffybot nodded and grabbed up a random segment of metal plating from the ground. "Nothing special," she said, and sent the fragment spinning like a misshapen frisbee into the swarm. It ricocheted from bot to bot, visibly disrupting the cloud. A few of the creatures dropped from the swarm. "I don't think I have the weapons I need for this fight."

"Well, we're surrounded by broken machines," Kate reminded her. "Improvise." She glanced down at the gun fused into her fist, felt the rounds flowing through her body to slot into the chambers like bugs crawling through her. Alien though it was, she'd learned to welcome the sensation; she was a practical woman. Six shots; six shattered bots. The swarm flew on.

"I have an idea," Buffybot said. "Hang on to your boots."

"Boots?" The shifting junk beneath her feet began to slide in increasingly larger amounts. "Buffybot, what're you do--?"

From beneath the pile something shuddered into view, like a huge spherical camera eye on a stalked tentacle. Then _everything_ moved. "I think I've made contact," Buffybot said.

A floor rose up beneath them, rubble sliding away. No, not a floor, a shell. They were standing atop a robotic crab with the bulk of a blue whale. Grating crunches rose from beneath them as it inhaled the octobot swarm like dust, and a modulated warble like low-pitched modem noise filled the air. "Contact with what?" Kate asked in alarm.

Buffybot stared in shock at the creature. "I don't know!" The crab lurched into motion and began to run. "Stop! We're running away from the portal!" The crab paid her cries no attention. "I don't know where we're going or how to get back," the robot whined.

Kate sank down into a crouch against a slight corrugation on the creature's back. "Maybe it's taking us to its leader," she suggested, half-seriously. "And if it takes us to something we need to shoot..." She held up her gun hand, still merged into one unit. "...we shoot."

*****

"Are you sure we're not in too deep?" Faith worried. "These islands seem pretty weird." Off to the left she could see an immense beehive floating in he water, attached to the branch of a tree that also grew from it. To the right she saw a great pink clockwork glass structure. Ahead there lay a barren hunk of rock with a single spring fountaining from the highest spur.

"We might have to backtrack a little to do the shifty thing," Dawn said, "but out here we can actually make the characteristics we need for the portal. I think that one in front of us will do it."

"An island nothing lives on," Faith muttered. "Great."

"I think it's more than just a dead place," Willow said with a frown, coming up behind her. "It doesn't feel dead exactly."

"What's not dead about it, Red?" Faith peered at the hunk of rock, but nothing moved there aside from the spray.

"I couldn't tell ya," Willow sighed. "Can I try something before you go?"

"Don't unleash any wacky cosmic forces," Faith warned her.

"Oh, nothin' like that," Willow said, baring her fangs. "Shouldn't even hurt much."

Faith held still and tried not to flinch as Willow sank her fangs into Faith's neck. There was a moment of chill before the Abyssal pulled away. "You didn't drink much," Faith said.

"Eh, it didn't work," Faith said back to her.

Faith jumped and yanked out a stake. Her spitting image was staring back at her. "Two Buffys, two Taras, now two mes? Not likin' this, Red. Where--? Aw, I get it."

"I look like you to you?" the other Faith--er, Willow--said. "Cause I still look like Leatherface to me."

Faith reached out and put her hand on the duplicate of her face. "Looks like me, sounds like me, feels like me." She took a deep whiff. "Smells like me." She tilted her head to one side, then barked out a laugh and kissed her lips with her lips. "Even tastes like me. Good one, Red."

Willow put a hand briefly to her lips. "I...that was the first kiss I've had in a while. It was good. Thanks."

"We're five by five, Red. C'mon," she said, and took Dawn and Willow by the hands. She lifted her hands over her head and shot into the air. Dawn let out a little shriek; Willow let out a whoop. In moments they were over to the dead crag of an island, where a mandala of some sort was set into the rock in front of the fountain.

"I've got to learn how to do that," Willow said breathlessly.

"Yer spreadin' yourself out too thin, Red," Faith warned. "Take care of yourself." She stepped up to the fountain and almost stuck her hand into it before thinking better of it. Instead she pictured a rat held in her hand, then set it down in front of the fountain.

The rat scurried up to drink from the fountain. No sooner had the first drops sprinkled on it than it began to shrink. It drank greedily--she'd created it thirsty--accelerating the shrinking. In moments it was a hairless pup. Then nothing.

"Well, now we know why nothing lives here," Dawn squeaked. Willow shook her head and closed her eyes. Faith just grunted. The rat hadn't really had a life of its own, but seeing it "youthen" away to nothing was still freaky.

"Don't touch the water," Faith said. There was no telling about the dose. "I'm gonna get the others." She soared back to the city-ship.

*****

The world flickered and swirled like mist rendered in black and white. Harmony watched contrails spray from the thin hairs of her right arm for a few moments before moving on.

They stood at the base of the Wolfram & Hart tower now. For some reason the building had been devoid of ghosts except that Pavayne guy near the top.

"How far do you think it is?" Gwen asked. She was the only member of the party not attuned to death somehow 

Harmony blew on Blind Edge and watched the ghostly flames trail from it. "Head for the subway station," she suggested. From there they could enter the network of tunnels that ran beneath the city. Here they probably merged with the Labyrinth before long. If she was lucky, maybe they could take the subway there. If she was really lucky, maybe she could bend the Labyrinth and get there sooner. "I always wondered why vampires liked sewers and subways," she thought aloud. "We didn't usually go much of anywhere in the daytime even with 'em."

"They're like the Labyrinth," Shoat said. "Maybe they even connect to it from the living world."

"I'd believe that," Marie Santangelo said. Harm didn't know her very well, just that she had some kind of death...bond...thing. "Even if they were aboveground I'd believe it. You should see what the mausoleums in New Orleans are like."

The subway was dark. The subway was damp. The subway was stinky. Harmony was used to all that. The rusted cars and junk heaps that used to be cars that sat blocking the tracks? Those were a problem.

"Wait for it," Shoat said. Harmony made a grumpy face and waited. What was she waiting for?

With a squeal, a rusty, dilapidated train pulled into the station. Wait, hadn't that track been blocked? If it had, the blockage was gone. "All aboard!" Shoat called.

"Convenient," Gwen muttered, but she hopped into the train. Harmony followed to find all the seats occupied by decrepit passengers in various states of bodily disaster. Shoat joined her and waved.

"Standing room only?" Santangelo grumbled as the train left the subway station.

"Sorry," Harmony said, consulting her map. "This'll take us past the geometry stack region in three hours or so...I think."

"What's a geometry stack?" Gwen asked. Shoat nodded, and Santangelo seconded the gesture.

"There's an place where space-time just totally collapsed on itself," Harmony explained. "Gaia used to be integrated into Creation before it was destroyed. The Shadowlands and Labyrinth didn't get destroyed too cause the Neverborn kept them there but they folded up inside themselves. Well...most of them, some pieces just fell into the Void. Anyway, I don't know for sure about time rates and speed here."

Gwen shook her head and whistled. "Sorry," she said a moment later. "I...you've changed."

Harmony just nodded. "People do that."

*****

Kate and Buffybot faced one another as the tram hurtled through unimaginable spaces. The giant crab-bot had brought them to this transport, and now it shot them through great fastnesses of solid iron bulkhead, through bubbles like insulated foam made of metal, through networks of huge buildings that would've been skyscrapers if there were a sky to scrape. They shot up a gallery of counter-rotating capacitors and passed through an ocean of oil.

Buffybot looked out the window. There were gears out there now, turning to move something lost in the distance amid all the shifting parts. She looked back at Kate. "I wish we knew where it was taking us."

"I do too," said Kate, but she just sipped at the cup of nutrient slurry and made a face.

Ahead of them there was a horrifying _snik-clack-clack-clack_. Kate started to leap up, but Buffybot grabbed her hand and pointed to the window just as the car hurtled off the end of the disconnecting tramline. Buffybot's inertial sensors registered a few moments of freefall before the tram slammed down onto another line and ratcheted itself into place. Now the car was shooting through a forest of flashing crystalline spires.

"Not a regular route, I'm guessing," Kate said, grinding her teeth.

"No," Buffybot agreed, "I don't think it is at all. We're going somewhere--" The crystals around them grew smoky and cracked. "--important--" With a screech, the tram lurched to one side and derailed. "--and that's why we're being stopped. Great." She reached up and popped the hatch.

Kate obviously saw as clearly as she did that a growth of blackened crystal had shoved the tram tracks, wrenching and disconnecting them. In the distance, ultraviolet flares flickered.

"I don't like the look of this," Kate said as one of the nearby crystal growths unfolded splintered arms lined with razor-sharp claws. Buffybot wondered why she felt that needed to be said.

The crystalline thing lumbered toward Buffybot, ignoring Kate, who snarled and began to metamorphose. Buffybot merely hefted a broken spar from the tram track and swung it like a baseball bat. The crystal monster thrummed with vibrations, then cracked and shattered into three pieces. "Breaking up isn't _always_ hard to do!" Buffybot crowed.

The splintered pieces of crystal rose and reassembled themselves into three smaller crystal things. "Careful what you say," Kate warned her. "Don't count your chickens till they're hatched."

Buffybot gave a little whimper and drove the spar point-fiest into the nearest of the creatures, which shattered. Tiny fragments flew everywhere, and Kate yelped sharply as a long blackened shard embedded itself in her left arm--then shot the other two with bullets that impacted with a force that violated physics and shattered them as well.

"Did we get them?" Kate asked as she examined the wound on her arm.

Buffybot looked around at the scattered bits of crystal and realized at once that they were drawing together. "No, they're still alive." She grabbed Kate by the uninjured arm. "Move! Move fast!"

In the distance Buffybot could see spires of a different sort. Though they too looked like great crystal shards, they were joined together in ways that were functional but not regular, and her senses could make out windows and doors. "I'm not sure what kind of city that is, but it looks safer than the one with the zombies."

"Agreed," Kate said, glancing back. No doubt she could see the skeletal forms skittering after them.

In the distance, the city fluoresced, and suddenly the skydome filled with a brilliant violet glow. An angelic figure with weeping stigmata of pure purple light shone above the towers.

It was calling to them.

*****

Faith stood on the barren crag, flanked by Angel and Spike, with TARA behind her. Fred stood there as well; Faith had asked her for one final bit of advice. "You just need to visualize it," Fred said. "The Wyld will shift to open the portal in the right place. Just remember that won't work in a real spot that doesn't change."

Faith nodded. Beyond Fred, on the deck of Luthe, she could see Tara arguing with Willow, who still wore her face. She might have listened in, but decided not to intrude. That was one couple she didn't want to get between. Past them she could see Stephen. She'd begun to think the Lunar might come back with her too, but he seemed to have decided to stay.

"All right," Faith said. She took a deep breath. "Qwrdmlzf!" The portal spiraled open, flickering blue with red lightning. She reached up to feel the cluster of microbots TARA had left on her shoulder, checked Spike and Angel's shoulders as well, and shouted, "Let's go!" Together they leapt through the gate.

The vortex spun them around weightlessly for moments or an eternity before dunping Faith unceremonially on top of Angel's ass. She pushed herself up just enough to look around, copping a feel while she did. The moon shone bright overhead, lighting a field of grass on which black-and-white cattle were munching. And in the middle distance, a stone fortress rose.

"The Cotswolds?" Spike grumbled. "What'd you bring us to the Cotswolds for?"

Faith smirked at him. "You'll see."

*****

Blind Edge struck, and struck again. "I could really get used to this," Harmony deadpanned, and waited for the laughter.

"That's not much of a one-liner," Santangelo said, flinging gouts of pale green fire at the ghosts.

Harmony glanced at Shoat. "You need something that fits the situation better," the kid said. "Something about rigor mortis, maybe?"

"I got nothing," Gwen said, hurling lightning bolts. "Something about getting a charge out of it, maybe?"

"You guys are putting me on," Harmony complained as she ran the last specter through. "I don't pun that badly, do I?"

"It could be worse," Shoat said as she directed her ghostly minions to stand down. "You get a good one in here and there."

"I ought to be as good as Buffy by now," Harmony grumped.

"Yeah," Gwen said, "doesn't everybody? Check tbe map?"

Harmony studied the papers. They changed, of course. They had to to do any good. "Stairwell ahead and to the left, and then we'll be in the Labyrinth proper."

"We're looking for bloody steps made from bone, right? Maybe out of vertebrae?" Santangelo shoved open a door. There were stairs beyond, all right, white and metal, polished to shining purity. "Okay, not what I waa expecting. I won't complain."

Shoat sniffed. "Disinfectant. Hospital smell. Yeah, it's the Labyrinth all right."

*****

Quentin Travers lowered his book. "You! You have no right here, Slayer. This is our pl--"

"You've got power," Faith said. "Money. Spies. Weapons. But you don't have power over me. I'm not the Slayer. I never was."

Quentin Travers reached for the alarm bell and had his hand slapped aside. "You insolent--"

"Yup," Faith said. "Insolent. Thieving. Violent. Sneaky. Little bitch. Got anything else to call me, old white British man?"

Travers made as if to reach for the bell rope again but stopped when Faith pointed a knife at him. "You have me at your mercy. Do your worst."

"Not here for that, old man. You have power. I'm taking it. All you ever existed for was to control the Slayer. Now there's not one. What a waste."

"I trust you have a point?" Travers said it contemptuously. Faith held no interest for him, since she would not submit to his direction.

"I heard you knew about Lilah months ago and you did nothing to stop her. You could've put an end to this before it began. You didn't do a damn thing, and now she's the most powerful person in the world." Faith held the blade to Travers' neck. "You swore oaths to protect the world. Well, ya didn't. That ends now. From now on, baldy, you work for me."

"You wouldn't--"

Faith's knife drew blood. "Fuck that noise, big man. You work for me. Council's mine now."

Travers pursed his lips. "You think it's that easy? Very well. You are the boss. Order me. I...dare you."


	15. Ascent

Amy finished counting pull-ups at one hundred fifty and dropped to the ground. When Faith had left, she'd been lucky to make fifty, even enhancing herself with temporary magics. Now....

Amy rolled up her shirt to examine the six-pack that had developed there. Five Days' Darkness had been late to inform her that she could grant her own wishes, but now that he'd done so she was growing in power fast.

Lorne and some of the squad had intimated that using her power this way was selfish, but Amy disagreed. No matter how many cures she granted, she could manage only a tiny fraction of the population. She healed the dying and those in great pain; beyond that there were other tasks that needed doing to keep the world alive. And also...she was still human, at least for now. Amy had real psychological needs, not just preferences and quirks. She wasn't _able_ to devote her entire life to healing even if she had the power.

Amy walked out onto the balcony. So far she hadn't managed to lift off and fly like Faith, but now she thought she had an alternative. It was energy-intensive, but it would last as long as she wanted it. "I want to fly," she murmured to herself, and closed her eyes.

Pain blossomed between her shoulder blades, pain and a grotesque shifting sensation as entire bones and muscle groups writhed into existence from her tissues. Her backless shirt shifted only slightly, shoved aside but not torn, and her new limbs itched madly as huge black flight feathers sprouted out of the skin. Amy spread wings wider than she was tall, the wings of a vulture larger than any that had ever lived.

By physics alone, even these wings were too small for flight, but then, they'd all pretty much transcended physics months ago. Amy climbed onto the lowest rung of the railing, then leaned forward until she toppled headlong. She dove, wings outstretched to catch the wind that whistled past her. She caught the wind, and the wind caught her, and Amy Madison leveled off into a high, circling glide as she felt for updrafts to carry her higher.

This was the life.

**Chapter 72--Ascent**

Kate Lockley walked among spires of crystal hundreds of stories high on streets that held no more pedestrians than a small town. Though transports flitted through the air in places, they didn't seem to account for a larger population. Either everyone was indoors or this city was nigh-empty.

The people she did see weren't entirely human either, she observed--or maybe it was fairer to say they were different from any humans she knew on Earth. Their skins were coated in a crystal carapace that sparkled in the light; even their hair was made of it. Larger gems studded the center lines of their bodies--at their chakra points, Kate realized after a moment--and sharp shards projected from their limbs. The crystal tended toward the blue, but variations here seemed random rather than some additional race division. Many of them had vague, confused expressions and were being led about by robotic creatures of all shapes and sizes; most also wore wireframe headgear that projected holographic displays for them.

Buffybot walked more confidently at Kate's side than Kate herself was capable of. The city was a welcoming, wide-open place, but its crystalline construction was alien to Kate; Buffybot seemed to feel right at home.

It took some moments for either of them to realize that the crowds--such as they were--were parting. A slender feminine figure was making her way down the street toward them from the central spire. Her body seemed entirely crystalline and translucent, though with a dark red-brown hue unlike anything Kate had seen here thus far. She wore nothing, but her body lacked obvious openings except for facial features. The other inhabitants bowed slightly as she passed.

"Welcome to my city," the figure said. "I am Omnideific Martyr--Om, for short. Greetings to you, Lunar Exalt; I know what you are but not your name. And you, Adaptive Heart and Hand of the Crafter Sublime...welcome home."

Buffybot tilted her head, looked into Om's eyes, and uttered a heartfelt, "What."

*****

Riley glanced nervously at the Secret Service agents clustered around the doors. They couldn't take him down--well, at least it'd be a hell of a fight. The President herself would definitely take a hand, though, and then his odds dropped to near zero. Knowing her capabilities would help--so, of course, she kept them secret. He refilled her glass with wine.

"Thoughtful boy," Drusilla said at his other hand. She was a wild card of rapidly increasing wildness. According to Lorne, Darla's conscience had awakened slowly after she was made human; the same seemed to be happening to her grandchilde, but Darla had been essentially sane. Dru's intent might be pure as the driven snow and aim at his death on the orders of a mad whim or a glimpse of destiny.

"So," Lilah asked, "what is this about? You can't be leaving Sam for me, surely. And with ninety-nine women panting for you, even your Dragon-Blooded dick isn't likely to be leading you around. That means you want something else from me."

"He's thinking inside the box," Drusilla laughed. "And the inside wants out."

Lilah shook her head. "You're not _that_ good in bed, Mister Finn. Though Dru speaks highly of you." She took a sip of wine. "There's nothing I want badly enough to let any more Exaltations loose. Too many are free as it is. Now if any of you had chosen to work for me, matters might be different."

"You have us now," Riley said, though he already knew her answer to that.

"I bought you," Lilah said, "and not all of you at that. Only Dru really wants to work for me, and she's bonkers."

"Does that maybe tell you anything?" Riley asked.

"Now is that any way to speak to your date?" Lilah responded lightly. "Exalted want to rule. It's in our nature. Of course you don't want me in charge over you. I'm not wasting any further effort on making more of us."

"Have you maybe considered that the Exalted were made to fight a war?" Riley countered. "If we've been released for a reason, maybe you need all of us free."

Lilah shrugged. "Then they'll be released for the same reason whether I want it done or not," she countered, "if that's their destiny."

"But you're going to stand against it."

Lilah's tone grew frosty. "I don't actually know what their destiny, or ours, is."

"Those such as we make our own fates," Drusilla teased. "The future isn't written." And, for some reason, she winked at Riley.

"So basically," Riley muttered, "I've been wasting my time."

"I don't know that I'd say that," Lilah demurred. "From what I hear, you and Drusilla had a good time together...and if you still want, I haven't said I'm not amenable, just that I can't imagine what you could possibly give me that'd justify releasing the remaining Exaltations. A roll in the hay isn't nearly enough."

Riley nodded and stood up. "Thing is, Lilah, you're right. Sam and the team have me buried in all the sex I could ever want. So...I'll happily just...let you finish your dinner." Hopefully she wouldn't notice how tight his pants were.

"Grandmum," Drusilla said abruptly, "let us not be rude to the poor boy. He did come all this way." She tugged on his right hand, then stood when he didn't allow himself to be pulled down and ruffled his hair.

Lilah made a grumbling noise under her breath. "Well, as the vote _is_ two to one, I don't suppose I see any harm." _She_ pulled Riley down with no trouble at all.

*****

Justine sat around the glow of the cooking unit, Sarah Holtz at her side, and shot a glare at Daniel across the device. Holtz acted as if he'd missed it, but she didn't believe. Daniel Holtz missed nothing.

"How many years'd we tell the boy he was a shapeshifter because he was half-demon?" Justine muttered.

"They made a demon of my daughter," Daniel retorted, "and her life was restored by black arts."

"And what do you say about me, old man?" Daniel looked younger than when she'd first met him, but he was two decades older even discounting the time he'd spent in suspended animation. "You're the one who let a demon put you on ice for more than two centuries. Maybe _you're_ possessed."

"This is not a productive line of thought," said the fourth of them. Itinerant Analog Calculatrix reached over the cooker and handed Sarah a piece of rubbery nutrient gel. "I see no reason to presume that any of you, absent son included, are empowered by demons. All of our powers alike derive from the Great Maker; only the form is different."

"Every good gift and every perfect gift comes down from above," Sarah quoted from the book of James, "from the Father of Lights, with whom there is no change or shifting shadow." Calculatrix nodded, though her eyes looked uncertain.

Daniel grunted. "So your ability to become a raven is a 'perfect' gift. And Justine's transformation into a badger." Justine took the opportunity to nod once, emphatically. There were few animals to hunt here, but her predatory form felt...incredible. Powerful. "And our mercurial witch here--"

"The term is t..." Calculatrix hesitated for no reason Justine could make out. "Protocol weaver. I don't...I can weave man-machine protocols," she said, pointing to the rotating ring around her "soulgem". For a moment there she'd seemed confused, but that had passed. "Those also come from the Maker."

"Your _spells_ come from the Maker," Holtz said, voice dripping with derision. "Well, at this point I won't refuse help. Where are we going?"

"Down a little," Calculatrix said. She indicated the exit. "We're in a shielded relay station near the bottom of the Pole of Lightning. I'm going to trust that you, at least, can survive a brief trip down the shaft unaided. Each of us will protect one of the others, if they need us. Do you need us?" Sarah nodded at once. Justine felt more reluctance, but in a moment she agreed as well. No point dying this close to safety. "At the bottom is the city of Sporish. The gates will provide adequate shelter while you get authorization to enter. Are we ready?"

"Let's go," Justine said, not waiting for Daniel. She took the robot-woman's hand and let herself be led to the door.

Calculatrix's hand was as warm as if she were the human she claimed to be. She _looked_ human...almost. But her skin was a shining, fluid metallic coating, almost a liquid yet not quite. Here and there, metal engines with moving parts protruded from her limbs and torso. She was tall, and though she was fairly slender her stern face would have made her imposing even if she looked entirely biological.

If the station where they had camped was cavernous, the shaft it opened onto was so vast it could hardly be seen as a place. Rotating cylinders the size of buildings lined the huge pipe, itself turning slowly, and lightning shot between them individually and toward the relatively slender cable in the center--itself as big around as a whale. And the sight repeated upwards as far as the eye could see. Below, it extended several stories before terminating in a many-spired floor...or roof.

Calculatrix led them on a path between the cylinder layers to a ladder, and beside it a cluster of thin cables. "It'll take forever to climb all the way down," she said, "because of the arcs interrupting us and because the ladders are never continuous for more tham a few levels. Daniel, watch what I do." She put one arm around Justine, grabbed hold of the cables, and leapt into the void.

Justine was pleased not to have made so much as a squeak. From above there came an "Eep!" as Daniel seized Sarah and leapt. Then the cables twitched back into place as Calculatrix dodged a massive bolt of energy. She looked up just as Daniel shot past, having been too high to need to dodge.

Another searing bolt forced Daniel into cover. Calculatrix kept going as the lightning narrowly missed her feet. Arcs flared all around them, and they swung and twisted on the cable as they dodged past energies that could have incinerated them in an instant.

Impact. Justine instinctively tried to roll with it, but Calculatrix was in the way. Their knees bore up under the force of it just fine, though. Beside them, Daniel and Sarah touched down a little more lightly. "I see the hatch," Sarah said. "Over here?"

Calculatrix nodded indulgently. "That's it, yes. Allow me, however. Opening hatches from the Pole of Lightning into a city takes authorization, for obvious reasons."

Justine glanced up into the sky. Pure power crackled down into the spires from the infinite heights of the Pole, bolt after searing bolt. None came anywhere near the floor, but she'd seen the things that fed on the power conduits here. No, she wouldn't want them loose on a city. Not even one.

*****

"It is evident that I am what is conventionally considered 'dead'. And yet my consciousness continues to exist."

A year ago Harmony would've had no trouble at all ignoring the speech. If she weren't trying to surreptitiously free herself, it would have put her to sleep. Only...the ghost was pondering the mysteries of its existence, and it was actually kind of cool and romantic. The monologue gave her the chance to escape, but it was so...distracting.

"Death, therefore, is not properly 'death' as many humans and demons conceive it. I am what is considered a ghost...and records indicate that ghosts can continue to interact with the world. Therefore I can interact with the world. In what sense, then, am I dead? Other than, of course, the purely biological."

Santangelo rolled her eyes and continued trying to burn through the plasticized ropes that bound her. Gwen looked as if she had already freed herself and was only pretending to still be tied, while Shoat merely sat there in grim irritation.

"In principle, of course, I am subject to the same controls that typically afflict ghosts--yet in life I know that my self-awareness surpassed that of any common demon. In appearance I am unchanged, yet surely I am a unitary being here, in that--"

Harmony sighed. Clearly the ghost-demon-cyborg who called himself Adam was going to rant all night rather than actually attack them, and she was getting impatient. Blind Edge, unfortunately, had vanished after a stretch of wandering through the sterile white hospital corridors, but that was all right. She had another spell she wanted to try out, and the ghost of a unique bio-mechanical kinematically-redundant demonoid would be a useful thing to have around.

She touched her fingers together, then pulled them slowly apart, producing a shining silver thread. The thread rotated and shifted, gaining volume and mass, becoming a thick iron mace. Harmony waited till Adam turned to stalk away again before bursting the cord he'd tied her hands with.

He heard her coming. He was definitely still superhumanly aware. She could say that much for him.

*****

"You are not a robot," Omnideific Martyr said patiently. "You are not an Alchemical Exalt, nor any conventional form of machine spirit. The records of you within Autochthon's thoughts suggest that you are a behemoth--a unique creation of the Great Maker. You were birthed in Creation as a simple lump of semi-sentient crystal before he fell into slumber here and were left to gestate like an egg."

"But Warren made me," Buffybot protested. "I'm only about two years old."

"This biomechanical shell you wear may be this Warren's creation," Om said, "but not the thought core which rests within it. I can feel your emanations from here. This body is...like a suit of clothing and a vehicle for your true form. An encounter suit."

"All right," Kate said impatiently. The chair was comfortable and the view of crystal towers spectacular, but they needed to get back. "What did Autochthon make her _for_?"

"As best we can discern," Om said uneasily, "she is somehow key to easing his illness. I don't believe she can cure him, of course--I'm not certain anything short of fetich death could accomplish that--but she may be the means to end this low point of his cycle. And before you ask, no, I don't know how."

"Why are there cybernetic zombies stealing bodies from the morgues?" Buffybot asked. "We need to stop them."

Om groaned deeply. "Ralacken must be building an undead army from them. Ralacken, the Gremlin City, aims at the death of Autochthon and his transformation into a Neverborn. He would not balk at killing Gaia first, though. He may well seek to gather souls as well, to make Apostate Exalted of your people. We have taken heroic souls from among you in the past as well."

"At least there's only one of him," Kate suggested, but Om shook her translucent head.

"We cannot be certain of that," Om said. "The Machine God's body is vast, and Ralacken builds on the older legend of Erlik, who may have really existed. Or not, of course. There may be others, too, more secretive than Ralacken."

"We'd love to help you," Kate said, "but we need to get our own house in order. If you'll let us go, we can shut down the body-snatching ring. That'd be something."

Om turned to glance out over her towers. "I cannot go with you. This place is my true body. But I will give you what assistance I can. The oldest gateway to your world is here; that is why you were brought to me. We have stores of weapons and other technology that may help you as well." She put one sharp-edged hand on Kate's shoulder. "Do not presume to have infinite time. This Age, I think, draws to an end. You must act, and soon."

"I'll do what I have to do," Kate said firmly. Om seemed to have some knowledge of Earth; she had to understand Kate's reluctance to accumulate personal power.

"Do so. Now...come with me."

*****

Amy flung needles of solid white light at Robin, probing at his defenses, but they shattered on his riot shield. He was no match for her, but he _would_ be a tough nut to crack. A quick slash cut into his side, but the Slayer's son had taken worse and recovered without a scar.

Amy arced a solid wave of light at him--or rather, at where he had been. Robin had learned to move with greater-than-human speed; she knew that, but so far she hadn't managed to compensate, not with him. A second barrage missed again, and she was forced to parry his daggers with a sheet of hastily-conjured metal. Her third attack caught him off guard as a boulder materialized and slammed into him--yet somehow, he held his ground against the massive rock.

She took a moment to examine him, but he was suddenly on her before she could move, seizing her by the throat and bearing her down. Robin was a fairly big man, but now he felt as heavy as a sumo wrestler. Amy struggled in his grip and finally had to conjure up grease on her body to slide away from him. At least it evaporated the moment she was free. "What the heck is that?"

"I wouldn't know," Robin said. "Makes me denser somehow. Heavier and stronger. You should be able to learn it, but it's not a path I'm familiar with from any of you."

"Doesn't slow you down any," Amy observed as he feinted right, then slashed at her.

"Sure doesn't." A foot swung under her as she moved, forcing her to jump over it; a bubble of force stopped the fist that might otherwise have smashed into her jaw.

"I can probably learn it too," Amy suggested. White fire seared his left hand despite his attempt to dodge. "It's got to be an Infernal thing."

"You know," a deep, barely familiar voice said, "before I left I'd have been real concerned hearing that from you. Especially considering you've made some kind of deal with Lilah Morgan and moved into the old Wolfram &Hart building."

Angel was abruptly shoved through the doorway by a bleach-blond vampire in a trenchcoat, and that vampire was in turn shoved aside by Faith. "Oi!"

"Ames!" Faith said, and rushed over to slap Amy on the back, a maneuver complicated by the huge wings. "I didn't mean to be gone so long! I got turned into a centaur, and anyway I didn't know time was passing faster here." She ran her fingers through Amy's flight feathers, an unpleasant tickly sensation that made Amy ruffle them. "Maybe I should've just come on. I didn't learn much an' I didn't bring B back."

"You brought me," said an unfamiliar girl with golden-yellow skin and a gemstone on her forehead. "I'm not exactly chopped liver, am I?"

"Heh, nope! Ames, Robin, this is TARA. She's...um, she's on our side. You've sort of met, Amy." Faith took Amy by the arm and pulled her closer.

"Um," Amy said, "I don't think I remember you. How've you been?"

"Reincarnated cyborg," TARA said. "You?"

"Rat. You've got me beat," Amy admitted.

TARA studied her. "I don't think I remember you either. No offense, it's been a few thousand years. I was Willow's girlfriend in the incarnation you'd've seen."

Amy shrugged. "'S'okay, I don't remember you either. This is Robin Wood. He's new to the group."

TARA nodded. "Don't think we ever met, but Faith mentioned you, Robin. She said you were half-caste. Your mom was a Slayer?"

Robin gave a curt nod. For some reason he'd gotten really tense since the group arrived. And where'd the blond guy go? He must have slipped out. "She was," he said. "I didn't think I'd inherited a thing from her till the last few months, other than my sparkling personality."

"I take it she's been dead a while?" TARA said. "I'm not surprised, but I am sorry."

"Don't be," Robin said. "You just brought me her killer." Something intangible passed between him and TARA, and TARA's expression darkened.

"He didn't tell me that," TARA said. "Do you need my help dealing with him?"

Faith scowled. "Hey, Spike's reformed. Kind of. I mean, he's got a chip in his head but he's been nothin' but good Creation-side."

"Reformed?" Robin said skeptically. "And you trust him...why, because he's been brainwashed or something?"

That same barely-visible flicker passed between Robin and Faith. Magic? "When you put it that way, it does sound kinda dodgy," Faith admitted.

"Faith," Amy started. "Hey, um...maybe you better tell me what you know about Spike."

"AKA William the Bloody," Robin cut in. "Soulless killer, like all of 'em...present company excluded," he added coldly, with a wary glance at Angel. "I don't care if he's been making paper dolls and giving away candy. He still killed my mother."

If not for that flicker...if not for Amy's own horrible relationship with her own mother...Amy gritted her teeth and shrugged it off. "Robin," she said through clenched teeth, "I don't know if you're meaning to do that, but stop it."

"No," Angel said. "He's right. I know what a bastard Spike is. I made him what he is today. I can't ask you to forgive me, Robin...but I'll help you kill him."

*****

Harmony was feeling woozy and weak and she really wasn't certain why. Her aura was shining gold and purple and made big fancy unicorn pictures whenever she did anything, and to her that made it sound like she was at the top of her game. Obviously not, though.

"Harmony," Shoat said, "you're using too much magic."

"But I thought the Exalted had plenty of magic for everything!" She hadn't really been keeping track of her reserves because so far she hadn't needed to.

"Harmony," Shoat said patiently, "necromancy burns a lot more energy than regular Exalted powers. And you're not regenerating it down here like I am. I'm not sure about Santangelo."

"I'm good," Maria reported. "It feels perfectly natural to me."

"Look, Harm, if you've got anything left you'd better conserve it." Shoat sounded put out. "That stone will give you a little, and Five Days' Darkness says we may get some from the superhero fanboys. But we won't find out till we break camp tomorrow."

"Isn't there some way I can get more?" Harmony wasn't sure she had much of anything left, and they still had a long way to go. "I could give you guys power if I had any."

"Not any kind of an expert here," Shoat said crankily. "I know what Five taught me 'cause I'm an Abyssal. You're not. You don't belong down here."

"We'll watch out for you," Gwen said, "but Harm, you really should've planned this out better. If we say we need to turn around, you'd better turn around. Got it?"

Harmony sighed and stared up at the cavern roof. At least it was rock right now. This was suddenly turning into a disaster. "Okay," she grumbled. "Do what you gotta do."

*****

Stephen clambered atop the barren, rocky island. So far no one knew he was gone. He'd picked up a few comfortable fish shapes. Less useful than demon forms, but much less disturbing to wear.

Angelus had, if he'd heard right, gone to somewhere in Britain, but Stephen was certain he'd return to LA eventually. And if not, he'd find a way to track the demon down.

Stephen articulated the word carefully. "Qwrdmlzf," he said, and the world ripped open. Perfect.

He leapt through the portal.


	16. Blank and Pitiless As the Sun

Anya flipped the sheet over and began working on the 398th parchment. Almost done.

She'd filed a few thousand papers, attended five committee meetings, and given two reports--one on Luthe, the other on vampires. Grueling, boring work, but it needed doing. Once in a while. Besides, her prayer-for-petitions business was turning a small profit now.

"Anya?"

Anya looked up and rubbed her eyes. The coppery-skinned, green-black haired woman at her office door was Ahn-Aru, head of the Bronze Faction. Anya knew she meant well, but they weren't exactly friends. "Sad Ivory? May I help you?"

The younger...elder smiled faintly. Anya wasn't the only one struggling to get used to her being older than Sidereals who had been Exalted for centuries. "By allowing me to help you, yes. I will explain. With every elder who dies, we risk knowledge being lost. Chejop in particular was a heavy blow, though he had passed on much of what he knew. Though there have been some issues regarding you--your relationships, your background as a demon--I for one say you've proven your worth."

"What do you want to teach me and how much will it cost?" Anya asked bluntly.

Sad Ivory's eyebrows climbed up past her bangs. "The only cost to you will be your time, and an obligation to your sifu. I would like very much to begin teaching you a Sidereal martial art."

It was Anya's turn to raise her eyebrows. "The ones that twist reality into pretzels? I'm in."

"As quickly as that?" Ahn-Aru pulled a bit of pastry from somewhere and took a bite. "You seemed reluctant at first."

Anya offered her a glass of experimental soda she'd tried making from ambrosia. "You're the new faction head. You've got to be trying to build up obligations and make ties. All of a sudden you're the underdog and you're scrambling to pick up the pieces. You want something from me, even if it's just to have me in debt to a sifu. But honestly, it's worth it. I used to be able to change history with the wink of an eye."

"Well," Ahn-Aru said, taken a little aback, "you won't be doing that for a little while yet. And learning the Sapphire Veils of Passion style may be taxing, but in all honesty I believe it's...no innuendo intended...up your alley. Oh, by the way...what is this beverage? It's quite good."

"Call it Anya-Cola," Anya told her. You didn't argue with a successful formula. "Who'll be teaching me?"

Ahn-Aru tapped her forehead. "Myself. Is that well with you?"

Anya offered her a high-five and was pleased to see that the gesture had spread. Americans were...cute. "You're on."

**Chapter 73--Blank and Pitiless As the Sun**

Buffy uncurled herself. The pain in her gut was only pain. Whatever poison was making her woozy was harder to ignore. Two Dukanthas stood in front of her. She breathed out a bloody spirit-copy of herself and let it dissipate, taking the toxin with it. Just one Dukantha now. Just pain. She raised the Scythe. If she had to fight to the death...she wasn't dead yet.

Dukantha wasn't even looking at her. He was staring at Charles Gunn. Who shouldn't be in the arena. Who was going to get himself killed.

"Run, little man," Dukantha said. "We have no special quarrel with you. Live a while longer."

Gunn shrugged. "Why? Not like I've got anywhere to be." He flexed his arms casually, but determination shone in his eyes. Followed by...something else. An axe of blinding white light sprang to life in his hands, and glowing plate armor burst into being over his body. "Buffy's the good guy here. You're trying to kill her. I'd say that makes your ass worth kicking."

Dukantha laughed, the same boisterous laugh Buffy associated with cartoon pirates, but as he opened his mouth to make some derisive remark, a booted foot slammed into the back of his head. He didn't fall, but he did stagger for a moment. "Toldja this style worked for me," Cordelia said cheerfully.

"I didn't say you wouldn't be good at it," Gunn muttered, as Dukantha caught his axe and shoved him away. "I said you were appropriatin' slave culture."

Cordelia got in another two kicks--"I learned this style from a god in Yu-Shan!"--before Dukantha turned and casually slapped her away. Gunn abandoned his intended response to swing his axe of light at the Lintha's legs, but Dukantha jumped nimbly over it.

A sword whistled through the air, spinning around the axis of its guards, and slashed across his face. "Direct your aggressions toward someone of a stature to threaten you," Scarlet Whisper said as she dropped down out of the stands. Her sword circled back to her left hand.

"What did she just say?" Cordelia asked as she got to her feet. Her boots had spiked heels that seemed to be made of white stone--jade, maybe?

Buffy lurched forward, Scythe whirling in her grip. "She said," Buffy growled, slicing at Dukantha's hamstrings, "'Pick on someone your own size'."

"Four on one is hardly a fair fight," Dukantha chuckled, not that he seemed remotely disturbed by the idea.

Buffy shrugged and brought the axehead end around again. "I'm Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I don't do fair, not against the Forces of Darkness." Her guts felt as if they might spill out the moment she let her armor go.

Dukantha stepped aside from the Scythe, caught Gunn's axe with a burst of water that shoved it away and Gunn off-balance, seized one of Scarlet Whisper's swords between his teeth, and tripped Cordelia just before her spike-heeled boot could put his eye out. It was as if he had no weaknesses at all. That couldn't be right...could it?

So far no amount of force had done more than bruise him. He didn't seem to have any weak spots. Maybe he could be transformed? But Buffy didn't have any powers like that.

Wait a sec. She was ignoring something.

Dukantha blasted away with fire with both hands as Gunn threw himself in front of Cordy. She couldn't change the imperative Kimbery had embedded in his brain, no more than he could change hers. But she might be able to work around it.

"Dukantha," she yelled. "Forget them! Your fight's with me, remember?" Green fire curled up from the corners of her mouth.

And Dukantha obeyed. Kimbery _had_ tasked him with killing Buffy, not her friends. "Come on. Come get me!" Buffy shouted. "Let them alone!"

Over the rim of the arena, Ferem Feyrendal, with his sandstone complexion, appeared, followed by obsidian-black Maheka Thaan. It was about time, but they wouldn't reach the fight before it was over. Well, she had left them behind.

Dukantha brought his immense sword down at Buffy, and she caught it on the middle of the Scythe. The Scythe flared brilliant green. Her middle wanted to buckle, but she held. Gunn swing his axe at Dukantha's back, but unfortunately the Lintha hadn't taken her literally enough to just forget the man's existence; he flicked his great daiklaive backward to intercept the blow. And as he did so Buffy turned and ran.

Some of the audience was already clearing out, but many were still there to watch the battle, real or not. Buffy raised her hands and made the most dramatic parting motion she could manage. "Out of my way!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. The words might or might not have carried; if not, the gesture was enough to convey the compulsion. The crowd scooted, and Buffy leapt over the restraining wall into the seats, turned a flip, and came down facing Dukantha. "Go on!" she shouted. "Blow me up!"

Dukantha hurled green fire and black water at her, and Buffy dropped to the ground. The roaring maelstrom of energies shot over her and crashed into the lower part of the crater wall with an explosive rush. Buffy scrambled back to her feet as the seats beneath her began to slide and fragment, and rode the avalanche all the way down to bury Dukantha in rubble.

Giles and Wesley came running up beside Gunn, Cordelia, and Scarlet, despite Buffy's frantic attempts to wave them off. The Lintha prince would be free in minutes at worst. But as Buffy reached stable ground, Giles slapped a dart into her hand, and she understood. She jabbed the dart into Dukantha's hand where it protruded from the mass of rock. "Thanks. That'll get--"

The pile of rock erupted as Dukantha burst free.

*****

Wesley realized their mistake at once. As a creature of Kimbery, Dukantha was as immune to the Cruciamentum toxin as any other.

But there were other options.

Wesley was never going to have the sort of power Buffy and many of her friends had developed; he accepted that. But there were powers in the universe in which every Watcher received some basic instruction, and he had learned more in the libraries of Yu-Shan. He prepared his thoughts accordingly.

"C'mon, Duke Antler, chop my head off!" Buffy was near the brink, Wesley suspected; she showed no clear sign of injury, but Dukantha had outright run her through already. Dukantha obeyed--what Buffy thought she was doing, Wesley couldn't fathom, but the big man lunged at her with sword outstretched.

Wesley flung out his hands in a chopping gesture--the Sign of the Hooded Hangman, the texts here called it. And a strand of silvery metal knit itself together between them, barbed wickedly yet fine as monomolecular wire, and hurled itself like a bolas at the pirate lord.

Dukantha, committed to his killing blow, nonetheless reacted, though to what cue Wesley could hardly imagine. The sword flicked back from Buffy's neck to interpose itself between him and the flying guillotine. Half the writhing wire twisted around the great blade...and the other half whistled past to wrap around its target: Dukantha's neck.

Dukantha's eyes went wide in disbelief as the wire cut deep into his flesh, severing muscle, tendon, and bone. No mortal, his gaze said, could possibly kill him, an Exalt, one Chosen of the Demon Sea.

And then the wire vanished into mist as Dukantha's head slid back and to the left to topple onto the ground.

Everyone's head turned toward him expectantly, even Scarlet Whisper and the Earth Aspects. It took him a moment to realize what they were looking for. He'd just struck the killing blow against an Exalt who made Buffy look like a child just learning to slay vampires, even if all the rest of the damage inflicted had been at her hands.

But no auras flared around him; no visions appeared. No Exaltations seemed to be available just now. Scarlet Whisper was the first to shrug and look away.

Then Buffy wavered, staggered, and slid bonelessly to the ground.

*****

Buffy swam in a sea of pain. Her armor had fallen away to reveal a web of second-degree burns criss-crossed with deep cuts. Worst of all, the stab wound in her guts seemed to have torn open some kind of sac. Her intestines slid and sloshed around in there, burning. They were trying to carry her off the battlefield; she was struggling to keep her arms crossed over the rent in her stomach, but they persisted in flopping away.

 _I'll heal back from this eventually, but how long? Weeks?_ She'd be vulnerable to more attempts on her life the whole time.

 ** _You can recover faster,_** Sineya rumbled, and offered up the last of the inner fire of transformation they'd been holding in reserve. _**Strengthen yourself.**_ The gift she offered wasn't healing, though; it was part of the tainted nightmare Sulumor had imposed on her. The surrender of her morality. _**Silly little killer. What morality have you ever had? You choose what you will and will not do. Vow what you wish to vow, and do it.**_ The oath in her mind wrote itself out like fiery letters on a wall: to protect those who depended on her. _**When have you ever done otherwise?**_ Sineya played it back in her mind: _Then the last thing she sees will be me protecting her._ It hadn't gone that way; she'd found an alternative--but she'd been ready to sacrifice all existence to give Dawn a few more moments of life and not-betrayal. _**Who will you protect, what good can you do, if you are dead?**_

Buffy could not be sure if she released it or if it fell from her grasp, but she felt morality slide from her fingers. She fell with it into the void....

...And caught herself. She had chosen; she had sworn. Buffy had her absolute freedom, and yet the framework on which to make a true decision. To be the good Slayer, even without that internal compulsion most people required.

Willpower welled up inside her, and with it the fire of possibility. Cordelia cried out somewhere in the distance. Fire ran through Buffy's veins and pulsed in her beating heart. She struggled free from grasping hands and stood. Liquid brass and molten lava flowed through her arteries.

"Buffy, don't--" Whoever it was cut off as scars of black stone began to fill in around the edges of her gut wound.

"Don't freak," Buffy wheezed. "I'm gonna be ok." Well...that one was kind of a stretch. But she was back on her feet. Okay would have to come back later.

*****

"I trust you told her no."

Mnemon looked up. Her command tent was wearing thin. She'd have to have it repaired. The woman standing over her had to be a Sidereal, to address her so familiarly when Mnemon had no memory of her. "Why would you trust any such thing?"

The Sidereal inhaled sharply. "Mnemon, my name is Anys Syn. I head the Center Convention. I am, to put it simply, the power behind the Scarlet Throne. I understand your need to prioritize, but--"

"The empty throne," Mnemon said acerbically. "Chejop--" She thought that was the name; she had known him a while. "--is dead, the Solar Anathema are running wild, and I still don't have the political capital to name myself Empress." She stood up and turned to face the familiar stranger. "If marrying the Despot of Gem will secure power for me, I don't care if she's Anathema or a demon outright. Have you got that?"

Anys Syn took a moment to collect herself. She was formidable, but she was no Chejop. "The Despot is new to both political and Exalted power. You're over four hundred and a daughter to the Empress. I don't see what you think she can offer you."

"You have doubtless missed it, staring at the Loom," Mnemon said coolly. "The Despot has connections not only with a group of friends who include the ruler of this _mysterious_ city risen out of the sea, but with some additional...cabal. She's been seen working with both Deathknights and Exalts who resemble akuma but are not."

"A dangerous-sounding woman,"Anys argued. "She sounds like an enemy of Creation."

"Not consistent with her actions," Mnemon said, "nor with my interactions with her. I believe these unknown new Anathema may be in rebellion against their masters and working with one another. For personal power, I suspect. Which is to say, we have quite a bit in common."

"They _will_ surpass you, Mnemon. They're Celestial Exalts." Anys shook her head. "These four hundred years of advantage will wear away, don't you see?"

"Either I'll be dead by that time, or I'll be among the oldest Terrestrials ever to live. There are levels of power we've never had a chance to master," Mnemon argued. "That does not mean we cannot. And I'll always have those years of experience on them."

"You're acting the fool, Mnemon. I'm surprised at you." Anys sounded disappointed.

Mnemon sighed and held out her hand, anima-light shining around her. "You underestimate me, Anys Syn. I appreciate your advice, but if you sought to sway me, you have succeeded " A six-winged cherub sprang into being above her palm, and she murmured into its ear. "I hope that you were not merely maneuvering for advantage, Despot Summers. I accept your proposal. Yes, I will marry you."

*****

"I have to go," Anja said, snuggling regretfully against Alexander. "Someone has opened up a new offensive against the Mask of Winters. Some foolish new Exalt, it seems."

"This is a bad thing?" Alexander surely knew better. He was trying to distract her with humor.

"The Mask of Winters is beyond any plausible Exalt or coalition thereof who might be involved in this," Leviathan rumbled from Alexander's other side. "Whoever they are is disrupting a delicate balance. If he begins to move, no one is in an adequate position to oppose him."

"The Sage of the Depths has agreed to go with me," Anja said. "He can't match a Deathlord alone, but he'd be the core of a functional opposition. I have the intel on Thorns that he'll need. " She curled her tail around Alexander. "I'd like to think you'd come as well, but you're too involved here, aren't you?"

"I am," Leviathan explained, "but not in the way you think. This body is only a small part of me. The rest of me is liberating Jalarin from its bondage to the Wyld in preparation for a still-more-delicate operation: the rescue of the lost city of Clepsys from the Underworld." He paused for a moment. "The Sage is leaving?"

"Too many people here don't trust him," Alexander pointed out. "The Deep Sages are a minority here. The Shadow Swimmers are flipped out about their ancestor, and the Luthea know the Sage helped oppress them."

"His worship won't just die out," Anja said. "But he doesn't have much else here."

"Then I wish him good luck," Leviathan said, "and you also. If the Mask of Winters should attack openly, I will try to come with aid, but for now I expect to be busy helping against the Silver Prince."

"I miss the days when apocalypses happened one at a time," Alexander said, "but at least it waited till there were enough of us to go around."

Leviathan's laughter shook the bedroom.

*****

"You need to know, Giles, I...think I learned something mind-altering at the end there. I'm kinda okay, but...watch me, please? If I start acting weird, or dangerous especially...."

Giles sighed. "I will tell you, Buffy. Or your friends if I judge it too great a risk. You know that you can trust me." But he didn't meet her eyes.

Well...she understood. She wouldn't be sure which pair to look at either. "I love you guys," her other head said, and she hugged Giles. "I know this look creeps you out, and I'm sorry. I think I have it because of the split, y'know? I'm Buffy Summers, valley girl--"

"--and I'm also the Slayer. They're both me. I'm getting less and less simple a person to know. I know that's hard."

"It is," Giles acknowledged. "But then, it's also what happens as one grows up. Admittedly, the scale of it is vastly increased...how do you feel, Buffy? You look feverish. And green."

"Yes to both," Buffy said. "Veins're full of green fire."

"Also? My scars itch." Her stab wounds had scabbed over in black volcanic rock and her burn scars were shiny brass. "But they're healing faster than I ever have."

"If I go bad...."

"I swear to you I will find a way to cure or stop you," Giles assured her.

Buffy nodded with her right head. She couldn't keep quiet--her friends already knew this was possible and would be watching for it. She couldn't tell them the whole story; they'd move Creation to undo it again. By hinting, she reassured them she was probably okay. And she was. Probably.

"I'll get used to it," Cordelia said as she came down the hallway. "I got used to Doyle being a spiky demon and I can get used to Buffy being a freaky two-headed mutant."

"What sort of demon was Doyle?" Scarlet Whisper asked her.

"Well, I mean he was half-human," Cordy explained, "but the other half was Brachen. He got killed by an anti-human weapon, though, so, um...I guess he counted as human."

"As I understand it," Scarlet Whisper said, "the soul structure is of more importance than--" She cut off. "Buffy. I'm glad you're recovering. You have very interesting friends."

"They're always there to help me out," Buffy agreed. "They're a big part of how I lasted so long."

Scarlet Whisper took a drink from the table. "I saw as much today."

"Oh, Wes's never been so helpful before," Buffy said as her other head laughed. "Not that I'm complaining in any way."

Cordy was about to say something rude, by her expression, when a six-winged baby darted through the doorway. In a faintly familiar voice and a friendly tone it recited, "I hope that you were not merely maneuvering for advantage, Despot Summers. I accept your proposal. Yes, I will marry you."

Buffy sat down hard.

*****

"I had thought better of Mnemon," Anys said. "But she has never been a woman of real faith. She does not _disbelieve_ , precisely, but she knows too much."

Her companion shrugged. "I know as much as she. Do I not?"

"You learned late in your life," Anys said. "She grew up with it. Still, though, you both in your way chose to accept the tenets even with the understanding that certain...aspects were left out of the public teaching."

"What would you have me do about the situation? Am I to intimidate Mnemon?"

Anys shook her head as she opened the doors. "Mnemon will not be afraid of you no matter what abilities you demonstrate. I would prefer that you deal with the Despot herself. There remains but one final test."

Ragara Myrrun nodded and assumed his place on the meditation mat. "I am prepared." One by one he struck his chakras: crown, brow, throat, spine, and abdomen, reshaping his essence. The motions looked perfect--

The explosion hurled Anys Syn against the wall.

"Damn," she muttered, struggling to her feet. Once again, she had failed, possibly for the last time. Why? There had to be a method; it was the nature of the Exalted to do the impossible. Yet still--

Myrrun stood in the center of the room, unharmed and radiating the violet aura of an Ending. He breathed, and flexed, and the walls swelled and flexed with his motions.

Anys Syn shrieked and leaped into the air. There was a time for restraint even in the face of success.

This was not that time.

*****

"Buffy Summers," Octavian thundered, "pour the beverages. A toast to the newest peer of Malfeas is in order."

Buffy had the uncomfortable impression that so far, the higher-order demons had been treating her as less...herself than the others. Okay, she had kind of expected that, sending a copy, but it was still annoying.

Well, no use complaining now. She took the bottle from Octavian, popped the cork, and poured glasses of chalcanth for all forty-two of the Exalts plus Octavian and Benezet. This was going to hit her like a freight truck.

"To the Perfect of Paragon! To the Reclamation! To victory!" Octavian shouted, and quaffed his cup in one swallow. The circle of Green Sun Princes did the same. Buffy gulped hers down.

The world lurched, tossing her to the floor. "Yowch! Okay, that was of the extremely high-proof...." She trailed off. The Exalts were on the floor. And Octavian and Benezet. And the angyalkae and gilmyne. They hadn't had any drinks. What the hell?

Another blast hit as she tried to stand. Only Octavian had made it to his feet. "What in all the hells is happening? Get me some information! Who's disrupting the ceremony?"

"Quarter Prince!" An erymanthos swung down from the level above. "The Deeper Well has collapsed!"

"That wouldn't create this sort of damage," Octavian snarled. "Something further has--"

"My prince," Benezet murmured. "Sacheverell--"

"What in the Pyre's name do I care about the Sleeper?" Octavian snapped, and started to turn away.

Benezet seized him by the arm. "Quarter Prince, Sacheverell is _gone_."


	17. Prayers to Broken Stone

Tara stood quietly on the deck of Luthe. Fred stood before her; Anja, the Sage, Kolohi, and Renjin surrounding them. Stephen had apparently gone without a word; that was a little worrying, but he was free to go as he chose. Leviathan was also not in attendance, preferring to keep his continued presence hidden from the Luthans.

Fred touched her face, her neck, and scribed a few final designs there. "I name you Glamorous Alabaster Sorceress." The native Lunars muttered a little at the mention of glamor; they had not forgotten its older meanings, since the Fair Folk also used the term. No one interrupted, though.

A silver crescent flared to life on Tara's brow. "This was not an easy testing," Fred said. "And not only because I'm new. Tara, you're not a warrior by nature, though I've seen you fight. You're a great witch by the standards of our time, but we've lost a lot. The truth is, your greatest strength is in your heart, and the way you touch the hearts of others. You may not see it, but I think that one day you'll be a leader people will follow without having to be told. You inspire, you enlighten, and you capture hearts. Welcome to the Silver Pact, Sorceress."

Fred hugged her awkwardly, and the other Lunars, one by one, came forward and greeted her in their own ways. Anja and Renjin also offered hugs; Kolohi gave her an odd fist-to-chest salute; and the Sage, strangest of all, kissed her on the forehead. Then the Sage and Anja made their departure for Thorns via some sort of magics Tara wasn't familiar with, striding onto a sort of moonlight bridge that vanished into the sky.

"I'm sorry about that f-fiasco with the fleet," Tara said quietly.

"I took you there to test you," Fred said. "You didn't know enough about command, but the navy did follow you. That's not entirely a failure, especially since you handed command over when you realized it was going wrong."

"You'll improve," Renjin said. "At least, you'll improve if you don't quit. Even the Exalted don't get better without effort." He clapped her on the back and strolled off.

"Changing Moon," Kolohi said, "may we fight together again some time. You're good ranged support. Where'd you learn?"

"With B-Buffy," Tara admitted. "Crossbow as much as magic, at least at first."

"I'm going to find you a good Haslanti crossbow," Kolohi told her. "I want to see you shoot. We'll talk again soon." And she left Tara and Fred alone.

"Willow was upset that she couldn't come," Tara said sadly. "I should get back to her. She wasn't happy I didn't like Faith's face on her, either. Faith's p-pretty, but she always scared me. And then...she, um, she...Willow still feels d-dead to herself. It didn't work very well even when she tried another face."

"I'm sorry," Fred said. "Can I do anything to help? Talk to her, maybe?"

Tara pulled her close into a hug. It was supposed to be a friendly hug, but now she was all up in Fred's body heat, in her scent. She could feel herself warming up, and pulled away. "I just...I need someone to be close to. Buffy's not here, and Willow's the problem, and--" She broke off. "We agreed."

Fred nodded hastily and with great vigor. "Yup. We agreed. We aren't going to...to do any more kissing or...anything like that." She leaned in close again. "Right?"

"Right," Tara said determinedly. "Because we're taken."

"I'm not exactly taken," Fred disagreed. "I'm not really in...any sort of real relationship. But you are."

Was she? Really? Anymore? Tara slumped forward again. "I don't know. Willow's so...obsessed with the Exaltations now...and I mean, she has reason but...."

"She's learning a little," Fred said. "About possible structures and...things. Like why Exaltations amplify the things about us they do. Our abilities and, um...our feelings...."

"Our feelings," Tara agreed absently. She knew it was time to pull away, but Fred seemed to havs a gravity of her own tonight.

"...and I'm saying that if we were to...I mean...you could make a case that it's not entirely our fault." She kissed Tara on the forehead, a sudden, startling kiss that made Tara look up. The next kiss landed on her lips, and this one didn't break. It was too hot here, too tight. Suddenly Tara had her hands on Fred's shoulders and was forcing her down. "Inside," Fred squeaked. They couldn't go inside. If they went inside they'd find a room, and there would be more kissing, and more than the kissing, and then there would be a world of bad. Tara's mouth wasn't paying attention, they needed to stop kissing now.

She tried to push herself away from Fred and realized that they were sliding off the deck now, slipping under the railing at a spot where the city just sloped down into the sea. Her clothes were going to get soaked, except suddenly they melted away, all of them, which was an even worse mistake because now she was naked with Fred all entangled in her arms and legs and they were still kissing, in the water now, underwater, and...and....

No one had to know.

**Chapter 74--Prayers to Broken Stone**

_The Exaltation is a tool._

_Hypothesis: the Exaltation is a_ simple _tool, like a vessel full of power._

 _Alternative hypothesis: the Exaltation is a_ complex _tool, like a computer._

There had to be a way to distinguish between them. The ancient Exalted had made very little progress, but not none at all.

Willow sat cross-legged on her bed, disguises gone. If the Exaltation was simply a vessel full of power, then the direction for that power had to come purely from her. But in that case, why did the texts divide every manifestation into formalized "charms"? Why couldn't she just spray it about to do whatever she thought of--or at least, destructively?

The power suffused every bit of her. It determined her appearance, even apart from any specific charm. Far more Exalts were beautiful than ugly, and those that were ugly were strikingly so: case in point. Just being an Abyssal made you look corpselike--though some lucky ones, like Shadow, looked like corpses perfectly preserved. No Solars looked that way.

That called to mind the image of a _switch_. Maybe it was more complex than that; then again, maybe not. Willow fumbled around at the controls she had already learned. Faith was gone, but--

_flick_

Golden light beamed down on her, beamed from her. The disc on her forehead shone like the sun. Her brittle greying hair grew out lustrous red, cascading over her shoulders. Her leathery skin became soft and milky-white. Her withered face filled out, cheeks plump, nose restored, lips rosy. She could feel the blood pumping through her, her dessicated body growing...um, fluid.

A wave of lust washed over and through her. ...But that was okay, that was called libido, it was the life urge. _See, Mom, I did listen!_

She hopped up off the bed and opened all the doors. Tara wasn't here, not even in her private rooms. "Towers of Azure, can you locate Tara Maclay?"

"Tara Maclay is not on board this station." Okay...maybe the Lunar ceremony thing was still going on. Or maybe she'd gone out to hunt. Thinking of Tara hunting was strange, but she _was_ a country girl.

"Um...where was she last?" Maybe she wasn't far.

"Tara Maclay departed this station off the starboard plaza deck fifteen minutes ago." Hmm.

Willow took a lift up to the plaza. Maybe Tara was back by now.

Only the wake of Luthe marred the smooth open surface of the water as far as she could see. They'd entered a huge gap in the archipelago that their maps didn't seem to account for, probably a Wyld manifestation.

Fred's head popped up over the side. She'd sprouted gills in her cheeks and neck. Fred had been really helpful to both of them, even though Willow had kind of hidden herself away most of the time lately. Tara appeared a moment later, and the two of them climbed onto the deck.

They were naked.

Well, they'd all been naked a lot lately. Creation didn't go in for swimsuits much, especially where Exalted were concerned. And anyway, Tara had been experimenting with her ability to shapeshift her clothes.

Fred looked around furtively before kissing Tara on the mouth.

Rage boiled up inside Willow, breaking through the mute button her emotions had been on lately. She knew it wasn't fair--she'd neglected them both lately, neglected all her friends while she searched for a cure. Not to mention, she'd done the same thing with Xander just a couple. of years ago. She had no right--

As if against her will, her hands shot up, and she heard a cry of incoherent rage. Knives shaped like lightning flew from her hands. "Angry now!"

This wasn't her. This wasn't her! But Willow couldn't stop.

*****

Fred dropped flat as Willow--a Willow who looked like a living girl!--flung golden knives at her. It had been so long since she'd seen Willow like this she almost believed it was an impostor. Only, well...Willow had motive right now.

Fred shapeshifted into a cockroach. Much harder to hit that way. What had happened exactly? The Willow who was attacking looked as if she'd become a Solar. Which Lytek had said was possible, though he had no clear idea how. And Willow had been studying Exaltations, so maybe....

Just as she finally worked it out, Tara and Fred had given in and made weird freaky underwater love. And she'd caught them. Great timing for all concerned.

A lightning dagger passed by just above Fred. She was going to have to fight back, try to apologize, or let Willow kill her.

"Willow, stop!" That was Tara, clinging to Willow's arm. "It was a mistake, it's as much my fault as hers, we just...Willow, I love you.".

"But you haven't wanted to be around scary dried-up Willow," the new Solar snarked bitterly. "So you found yourself a shiny new girlfriend who was still pretty enough to, to _screw_. You couldn't have waited twenty more minutes, because that's how close it was, the AI told me."

" _You_ haven't wanted to be around _us_!" Tara snapped. This side of her wasn't one you got to see very often. "And I do mean 'us', she's your Lunar mate and I'd have let you g-go if you wanted her instead, I don't know what I'd have d-done but I would have! But you went and hid in your room even though I told you it was all right!"

Willow smashed both hands into Tara's body and sent her sprawling with a dagger in her chest.

Fred flung the web she'd been constructing over Willow, buzzing around her hands to wrap them and pull them tight, and dropped onto the deck in human form next to Tara. Aaand she still hadn't picked up the stupid clothes trick. Still naked. Drat!

Tara sat up and pulled the dagger free with a wince, pinching the wound shut. "I c-can't believe she did that. She attacked me. Willow...."

"I-I didn't mean it!" Willow stammered. "I'm so sorry, it's Fred I'm mad at, not you, and...and...."

Fred began to apologize. "You're right, it's my fault I should've handed her over to a different Lunar they'd have done it, any of them really, and I--"

"Stop," Tara said, and put a hand on Fred's mouth. "Willow. I know that the Exalted have...mental p-problems, maybe all of us. So I'm giving you one chance because it m-may not be your fault. I want your apology, and I want your plan to have this not happen again even if you're crazy. If you haven't recovered, fine, I can wait, but you _stabbed_ me. So until I have b-both of those things, we're not g-girlfriends, we're not even friends, Willow."

For a moment, Fred thought Willow was going to put a dagger through both their hearts. Then she crumpled to her knees and began to sob. "Tara...oh god I'm so sorry. I can't believe I...please please don't leave me I couldn't stop myself."

Tara tangled one hand in Willow's shiny red hair. "I believe you," she said sternly. "I won't hurt you. But I have to have your plan not to do that again, Willow. Was it the...the change?"

"I don't think so," Willow said, "I've been obsessed with you two and fixing my Exaltation and...um, kinda with Buffy and the Scoobies after that but I was too busy working...for weeks now. It just hasn't ever gone away and I saw the two of you and it all...turned wrong, I guess." She stopped to twirl her hair around in thought. "I...Raiton said this sort of thing could happen if I tried to live among the living. It's my fault."

"What did she say exactly?" Fred asked. "Maybe we can...work around it somehow."

"Live in the...the image of death, she said. Which...I can do the goth thing, I guess, but it has to be something I really associate with dying, not just black clothes. Don't use my name. Kill things--demons and bad people and thinking monsters are okay, but they do have to be, well... _people_. Not just animals or ooky monster...animals." Willow began to smack her forehead. "Can't think of anything else.Don't even know if it still applies now."

Fred knelt down in front of Willow. "Tara, is it okay if I make a suggestion?" Tara nodded emphatically, so she went on. "Anya and Xander are in some sort of...open relationship thing, and didn't Anya used to...y'know...curse unfaithful men? I'm not saying exactly the same, but...Willow...I love you. I'm your Lunar mate. And it's not the same as between you and Tara, how could it be, but...what if we were to...to agree to...to...share?" The last word came out in a tiny squeak. Tara went bright red. "If Anya can manage it, surely you can too."

"I-I-I c-can d-do that," Tara said faintly. "If it means no more fighting. Willow?"

Willow had gone extremely pale. "I guess if we're all together and I'm not jealous then being...fixated...won't be a problem the same way. Right?"

Tara nodded. "Okay then. If we can do that then it's settled and we're okay. And if...if there's obviously something that went wrong and one of us is not...in our right m-mind then we can re-plan things, okay? But if it's not like that, if there's any hitting or stabbing and it's on purpose I'm breaking up with whoever did it. Even b-both of you. Okay?"

"That's a lot of okaying," Fred said, trying to lighten the mood just a little. "But that plan works for me. Oh, and, um...if I lock myself in my room don't come in unless there's a Neverborn on the loose, all right?"

"I'm with the okayage," Willow said quietly, "what with it all being my fault and I'm getting off light."

She looked as if she might say something else, but then a hatch opened and Xander popped out in his boxer briefs with a naked Cynis Megara riding on his back. "Aw hell," he muttered. "Sorry to interrupt--"

"Who's interrupting?" Megara said lazily. "Let's join 'em."

"--But the Dragon-Blooded especially and everyone in general are breaking out with the orgies and we might be in yet another Wyld pocket?"

Fred knew her face had gone crimson; Tara's certainly had. Fred pulled Willow to her feet. "Xander," she said, "good news!"

"With the Wyld pocket? Because while this is fun it's....Willow?" Xander raced over, Megara clinging for all she was worth, and lifted Willow into the air. "Willow...wow. And wow, and multiple wowage indefinitely. Is...is it real? Like, for keeps?"

"I don't know," Willow murmured. "Something doesn't feel right about it. But at least I look alive, right?"

Xander nodded and put her down. "The Ampata look is definitely wrong for you. So is there a reason you're the one who's not naked and...your wrists are tied and don't answer that, I don't need to know." He winked and made a click with his mouth. "All good with the Dread Pirate Roberts. Play nice." He turned and carried Megara back inside.

"Should we...um, take further advantage of the Wyld pocket?" Fred asked. "And maybe this time of live Willow?"

"I'm g-game," Tara stammered, still beet-red. "Willow?"

Willow burst out with a grin from ear to ear. "Yes, yes please can we please?"

The next morning Fred and Tara woke up curled around a mummy. Small favors, though. Small favors.

*****

That had not gone well. They were supposed to fight, then separate and be picked off one by one. Still, it never did to underestimate the bond between Solar and Lunar.

Fred had been her first target, but Willow was perhaps more interesting. And Tara reminded her of herself nearly as much as the Dreamer did. Shy little girls all, hiding behind masks, pretending they feared power. She had been like that.

Well, she would have her way. Raksi was the fly on the wall. She would see what she needed to see and try again.

It was only a matter of time.

*****

"You're impatient," Ahn-Aru said. "Sidereal magic is rarely flashy. We are meant to be subtle."

"I'm tired of subtle," Anya complained. "I can do it when I have to, but where's the fun?"

Sad Ivory smiled. "I understand. Well, let us be blatant, then. Follow my gestures." Her left arm thrust abruptly at the dummy, encircled by yellow and crimson ribbons of light.

Inexpertly, Anya tried to duplicate the strike. No light show. "You are missing the point," Ahn-Aru said, not unkindly. This time she lashed out just as violently with her right leg. The same display spiraled around it. "This is a Sidereal style, Anya. Your thoughts and emotions are far more important than the precision of your gestures. I know this move will be difficult for you to learn."

Anya shook her head and muttered under her breath, then tried with her right arm. Zilch.

Sad Ivory raised an eyebrow and head-butted the dummy. The same effect swirled around her head. Even her head!

"I'm not getting what you're doing," Anya grumbled. "You're not using the same strike twice."

Ahn-Aru shook her head. "But I am." She turned and picked up a thingie. A whatchamacallit. It might have been a sword. It might have been a cat-o'-nine-tails. She flicked it vigorously at the dummy. Scarlet and yellow ribbons mingled with the blades. "You fail because you don't understand the principle involved. Yellow Dragon Flight is the essence of the male principle, or _yang_. It is aggression. It is fire. Until you can expresd that principle in your thrust, you will continue to fumble."

Anya groaned. "How am I supposed to do that?"

Ahn-Aru pressed her lips together as if struggling not to laugh. "I was under the impression that you knew the male principle of essence very well, Anya Jenkins- _Harris_."

Anya blinked. "Oh. Oh! Wait. You made a martial art out of _that_?"

"More than one," Sad Ivory acknowledged. "But this one is the most refined. Now, Anya, pay closer attention. We will do this all week if we must. Only then can you attempt to make use of the feminine principal in the Black Dragon Coils block."

"That's ridiculous!" Anya snapped. "You know as well as I do that feminine power is more basic than male."

"And therefore harder to master," Ahn-Aru said with a glint in her eyes. "Come now. Try. You can do this."

Anya grunted and pulled her right arm back. Xander. Atop her. Ready. She was waiting. He wasn't going to. Wham-bam. Her arm shot out.

Nothing. Ahn-Aru shook her head and began to say, "Better, but--"

Anya thrust again. And again. And again. Why stop? Xander wouldn't. Not until they got what they wanted. Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.

A blaze of red and saffron encircled her arm. The dummy's head went flying in a burst of orange light.

Sad Ivory raised an eyebrow. "All right, then. You're a quick study."

"Nope," Anya chuckled. "Just...like you said...familiar."


	18. Hell Rising From a Thousand Thrones

"Buffy Summers," Ligier thundered. "What am I to do with you?"

She didn't want to cower. She wanted to deliver a snappy one-liner and cut off his head. Not being the whole Buffy kind of impeded that, leaving her to huddle under the demon lord's gaze.

"According to Oramus, he bid you to act in direct support of the Reclamation against a danger to it, and since Sacheverell's waking, if it were accomplished, would have been a disaster to all of us, Malfeas accepts his word. Nonetheless, the fetich death of a Yozi at the hands of an Exalt cannot go ignored. And do not protest that you were acting under compulsion when one of your gales blows into the Demon City unguarded!" Ligier roared. "I will not tolerate such folly!"

The Slayer would have snapped back at him. Buffy Summers, ordinary girl, lacked the power to stand beneath the supernatural weight of his authority. She didn't try to bargain or beg, but neither could she defend herself. _So much for not wanting to be the Chosen One,_ she managed within the quiet of her mind.

"Here is my judgement: by not bringing this to my attention before you acted, you have violated the will of the Unquestionable--namely, myself. Because you acted in defense of the Reclamation and the freedom of the Descending Hierarchy, you will not be sanctioned as Kimbery's other Exalted have been. Your own Exalted nature will carry out your punishment, as usual." Ligier paused. "Carry this message back to your overself, little doppelganger, and do not return unwarded."

Buffy said nothing. But deep inside she was thinking as she turned away: _So much for prophecy._

**Chapter 75--Hell Rising From a Thousand Thrones**

The chariot came racing across the dessicated cracked ground, leaving tracks of frost in the horses' wake. Buffy watched from the palace balcony, stomach fluttering. "I really thought she'd laugh and say no and offer me some minor prince or something."

"The hazards of bargaining," Giles mused. "Sometimes one gets precisely what one requested. Who knows? Perhaps you'll find her to be a proper match."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Giles, she's got all the morals of a vampire."

"Precisely."

"That was a low blow." Buffy shook her head at him, then vaulted over the retaining wall with a wink and a smirk to drop fifty feet to the pavement below. One of these days she was going to have to learn how to really fly.

Her timing was off. Mnemon took another five minutes or so to pull up. Still, she'd seen Buffy's leap. "Vulgar display," she said, but she said it with a smile as her chariot dissipated into mist in the dry air.

"Aw, c'mon," Buffy said. "Don't be a wet blanket at your own wedding party. That is what you're here for, right?"

Mnemon raised both eyebrows. "I'm here to negotiate the formalization of our alliance. Does that involve a party where you're from?"

"Usually." Keep it dry. Mnemon seemed to find that amusing. "No entourage?"

"Should I have returned with my entire army? No lesser honor guard would suffice, and I do not fear you. Now I did hope to be introduced to your friends. And to be greeted with a feast appropriate to my station." As best Buffy could read her, the Terrestrial was completely at ease. And completely honest, but she didn't believe that.

"Hungry?" Buffy asked disingenuously. "As a matter of fact, there should be food from my homeland just about ready in the kitchens. I've been buying Harborhead beef like it was going out of style."

" _Quite_ hungry," Mnemon admitted, frowning slightly as if wondering what Buffy was getting at. Or amused by. "I'd love to sample your finest cuisine."

Buffy nodded agreement and poked her head through the palace door. "Lunch better be ready!" she shouted. Actually, she already knew it was, but she wanted to look in command and like a rube at the same time. Best if the most powerful woman in the Scarlet Empire underestimated her...a little.

***

"Amazing," Mnemon said. "And almost any sort of food might top this flatbread--meat and vegetables like you have here, but I can also imagine a sweet pastry variation for dessert--"

"Already out of the oven," Buffy pointed out.

"Beef, pork, chicken...I wonder about the spicy peppers that grow in the southwest..." Mnemon paused to shovel more pizza into her mouth. "...I suppose coming by fish here is nigh-impossible. Anyway, as I was saying, according to motonic theory the energies that power the Exalted also make up the substance of the world. To have them flow through you is to become more real. Therefore essence channeled through the body amplifies our appetites. If it didn't also make them similarly more efficient, we'd devour the world. So, to answer your question, no, the conventional energy requirements for the body are a negligible factor in this."

"Fascinating," Wesley said. "Would you try some chips?"

"Hmm?"

"Fried potatoes," Giles explained. "Soft inside with a faint crunch in the outer layer."

"Delightful," Mnemon said. "And what are those rolls with meat patties?"

"You want a burger?" Cordelia asked. "Here. Onions, pickles, tomatoes?"

"All of them. Good girl." Cordy bristled but assembled the sandwich. "It looks delicious." And Mnemon promptly dug in as if she hadn't eaten in a week.

"What's it like," Buffy asked, "being Exalted for four hundred years?"

Mnemon blinked. "I'm not sure I understand."

"It's like this. I've been the Slayer for five years. That's a long time. The average Slayer lasts about a year. There's only a few really big threats every once in a while, but the little ones are constant. I slayed vampires every night. Eventually one always gets lucky." She turned to Giles. "Who was the longest-lived Slayer in the records?"

"Well...ah, Semiramis lived out a normal human lifespan," Giles stammered, "that-that is, for a ruling queen in the third millennium BCE. Since the end of the Middle Ages? One lasted ten years in Indonesia, I believe. Since the Industrial Revolution, none longer than six, correlating with...with the increased focus on secrecy."

"They started training us not to flare our anima," Buffy explained, "till we didn't even know we had more energy to use."

"I'd say that was an atrocity," Mnemon said acidly, "but given they were mortals dealing with an Anathema, perhaps it was allowable." Her eyes widened slightly when everyone glared at her; then, after a moment, she laughed softly and shook her head. "Never mind that. What is it like after five years, Buffy?"

"I have more power than I know what to do with. I can eat literally anything. I mutate when my anima flares. I'm more than one person at a time. Just when I think I'm getting used to one new power I learn another. Even before I came here and learned what I was I was stronger, faster, and tougher than anything I knew of but some kinds of demons." Buffy gave her head a small sharp shake and laughed. "I barely feel human any more. And I guess I'm starting to get used to it, but...they tell me I could live for _thousands_ of years like this."

Mnemon digested that--and a plate of fries--for a minute or two. "The Dragon-Blooded's powers are in some ways less than yours. I can go without food or sleep, even without air, but only for short periods of time. I can't undergo most of these transformations you're talking about. I do have a link to the natural elements, primarily earth, that you don't--and you can see in me how that grows stronger with age." Buffy nodded; hair aside, Mnemon resembled a moving statue of a woman. "I do have some idea of the loss of connection I think you mean--and yes, from time to time I discover some new ability, though it rarely startles me any longer. For one thing, I've learned to cultivate them carefully. Does that answer your question?"

Buffy considered that. "Yeah..I guess it does. So...these powers keep growing, keep changing me. And it's not all bad, especially as I get used to it, but when I try to think about the future...." She trailed off.

"I honestly don't know that any further explanation of Anathema is required," Mnemon said with wry amusement. "I don't believe I'll live long enough to transform in the ways you might. No Dragon-Blood will. I promise that I'll keep you from becoming a monster. We can write it into our wedding vows if you'd like."

Buffy squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, but when she reopened them Mnemon was calmly sitting there, happily devouring a huge hamburger. "I'll think it over," she muttered.

***

"I know you have two different...cabals of allies," Mnemon explained. "They don't seem to mingle, for the most part. I really would like to meet both."

"Oh boy," Gunn said. "This is gonna get complicated." He picked at the remains of the pizza.

"I'm not from this world," Buffy began. "In my world the Slayer was the only Exalt. I saved the world from a baddie who wanted to make with the dimension-ripping and fell into the hole. So naturally, my friends came to rescue me. Only, then things got complicated. Guys?"

"Our entry into this realm damaged Fate," Giles said, "freeing up several Exaltations ahead of their time. Xander and Fred were the first to acquire them, then Anya and Willow. A copy of Buffy was Exalted as an Abyssal intentionally, and lastly Tara received Ma-Ha-Suchi's Exaltation. Have I got that all correct, Buffy?" She nodded to him.

"That leaves the four of us," Wesley said, "two vampires who have returned home, and Dawn, Buffy's supposed sister, who proved to be a raksha."

"The other group's a conspiracy of Infernals and deathknights who don't want the world to end," Buffy said. "I got snapped up the moment I fell into Creation. Cyan, Cearr, the Orchid-Eater, Gryfa Theed, a Captain...Feasalt, and possibly Sulumor are all willing to thumb their noses at the Yozis for personal power. A couple of Abyssals, Son of Crows and Meticulous Owl, have thrown in with us for pretty much the same reason." She didn't mention the friends of her friends just yet, let alone that they just might have the Black Heron batting for their team too. Claiming to be on good terms with a Deathlord? Not of the trustworthy.

"No doubt they have allies of their own," Mnemon observed. "Few people truly wish to see the world end, but many desire power."

"They're not all to be trusted," Buffy warned. Mnemon looked at her as if she'd said stone was hard. "Owl, for instance, specifically likes to talk about how he doesn't pity the Neverborn for suffering because he enjoys making people suffer. Of course, he also lies every three words or so."

Mnemon rolled her eyes. "Despot, I don't trust you. And you, if you are sensible, don't trust me. But if you have told the truth, you have connections to powerful allies across Creation, and that is what I need to help stabilize my rule."

"I'd have thought the Immaculate Order would be more useful to you," Gunn wondered. "You sure seem to buy into 'em."

"I believe that the Order promotes righteousness and stability," Mnemon said, "and I believe in the holiness of the Dragons. But with my mother gone and the Realm in upheaval, the people are losing faith. And large swaths of the Order are responding...counterproductively. The Wyld Hunt is neglecting some areas entirely and scourging others to no purpose. Heresies spread everywhere as people conclude the Order cannot--or will not--protect them. They are a tool I must fear will break at the first test, which I regret deeply but must accept. I can display my alliance with you for what it is--an act born of necessity--and so keep some support from the more pragmatic Immaculates, who will be of more use to me anyway."

Wesley nodded at that and said it was well thought-out, which Mnemon ignored completely. She stretched languidly and looked around the table. "Your hospitality in the matter of food is fitting to an ally of the Realm. But the body has other appetites of consequence to a marriage negotiation."

"Buffy said this was a political marriage," Cordelia spoke up. "I wasn't thinking the two of you were actually going to--" She broke off as Mnemon rose from the table and...swayed in her direction.

"I'm told you're a seer," Mnemon said. "Tell me what you see."

"Well it's not like it works that way," Cordy pointed out, emboldened again for the moment. "I only get--"

Mnemon's hand settled on Cordelia's shoulder. "If you are the Despot's friend, then surely by now you understand the desires of the Exalted." That marble hand moved to Cordelia's neck and forced her chin up until she was looking directly into Mnemon's eyes; Cordy's breath quickened. "For Terrestrials, some of these urges are stronger still. Fortunately, we have the charisma to...satisfy those urges...in a manner of our choosing." Cordelia's lips parted, and Mnemon bent down to kiss her on the mouth, producing a string of little pleasant whimpers before Mnemon broke the kiss. "Pleasant dreams, mortal. I have no interest in snapping Buffy's friends like a twig." She patted Cordelia on the head like a puppy and turned away, leaving her looking distinctly green.

Mnemon returned to her seat next to Buffy. "Is she always like that? And you tolerate it?" Beyond her, Cordy hopped up as if to flee the table, and Mnemon turned back to her, fixing her in stone-hard gaze. "Buffy, do you recall that how I forced you to release that supernatural enmity you made yourself feel toward me? Fear likewise can be transmuted, to anger or...." She gave Cordelia an incongruously flirtatious wink. "And yet since she fears her response all the more, it can only grow, just as your hatred for me was sustained by your own magicks and so fed back into increasing desire. Go on, child," she tossed off at Cordelia. "you don't interest me." With a little squeak of outrage, Cordelia fled the room. "That should keep her out from underfoot a while."

Buffy scowled at Mnemon, who took it in without changing. "That was...rude. At least. I mean, you didn't exactly take advantage, but you still--"

"I ran an annoying mortal off for making trouble," Mnemon said, her voice faintly tinged with exasperation. "I could have made her flee in terror. Instead, she'll have a pleasurable afternoon away from us. I don't understand your objection."

"Cordelia can be difficult," Wesley said nervously, "but she generally speaks the truth. I find she often punctures my illusions and makes me consider my situation with care. That's a valuable thing. Also, while you may not precisely have violated our world's laws, and in any case are outside their jurisdiction, your action could certainly be construed as inappropriate by our standards."

Mnemon groaned. "Well, we are not in your world, little man. Buffy, my goal was not to offend you, but if we are to be bedeviled by these mortals and their sense of propriety, is it possible we could speak in private instead?"

Buffy all but leapt from her chair. "I know just the place."

***

"You realize I was thinking of somewhere relaxing?" Mnemon said, taking in the circular stone chamber, its walls lined with weapons. "Such as your private quarters?"

"I promise you'll find this relaxing," Buffy said with a grin, "and my private rooms would never stand up to what we're going to do."

"Despot, I think we know one another's combat capabilities by now." She sounded grouchy. That was okay; Buffy was pretty grouchy herself.

"We know how we each fight a war. Forget war," Buffy said. "It's just you and me in here."

"I am surrounded by dematerialized spirits," Mnemon pointed out, "and you are evidently not even aware of that."

"Am now," Buffy said, raising her fists. "Leave them out of it...or don't, if you'd rather not. I'll kick their butts too."

"Were you not nearly killed in battle recently?" Mnemon wondered. "Surely you are not yet fully healed."

"Close enough," Buffy insisted. "Come on now, don't make me throw the first punch."

"If you must," Mnemon sighed. She flung out a hand, and the floor beneath Buffy exploded.

Buffy was already leaping backwards, turning a flip in midair. She caught a chunk of stone and flung it into Mnemon's face. It bounced harmlessly away, but by that point Buffy had the Scythe in hand. She lunged forward, stake-end aimed at Mnemon.

Mnemon put her hands together and caught the thrust. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Not many people where I come from can do that without cutting up their hands." Buffy pivoted the Scythe up suddenly, tossing Mnemon into the air. "I used it once on someone trying to end the world."

Mnemon came crashing down atop her. "Strange to have it turned back on you, I suppose." She locked her arm around Buffy's throat and put a knee in her back. "Not an armored stylist, I see."

"No, but my stylist says the simple hairdos are best." Too bad her hair wasn't with the animated right now. Instead she bent her arms backward till they were all but dislocated, clenched her fingers in Mnemon's hair, and bashed their heads together. There was an instant of disorientation, but Mnemon's lasted just a bit longer, and Buffy wriggled free.

Mnemon got to her knees, tapped her head on the ground, and set herself. The already statuesque woman stretched up still taller as stone ripped out of the floor to lock itself around her into an exoskeleton of living rock.

"You didn't use that one on me before," Buffy noted as her own eyes flared green and she began to grow.

"Is that a complaint? I had too much faith in my army, I suppose. Also, it. seemed more practical to threaten Gem...which in its way speaks well of you. You were concerned for your people." Mnemon lumbered forward and punched Buffy in the face with a rocky fist.

"Looks like a Thing versus Hulk match here. Mnemon, don't make me angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry." She returned the favor, but Mnemon was no more fazed than she was.

"On the contrary, Despot: become as angry as you like. You may have had combat in mind when I suggested privacy; I did not." She seized Buffy around the waist, then lumbered forward and slammed her into the wall. "But I believe Cordelia mentioned under her breath earlier that for you, this is like foreplay. Or 'first base', whatever that means."

"Oh, come on. Can't keep it in your pants till after the ceremony?" Buffy's arms were still free. She lifted them over her head and slammed them down on Mnemon's shoulders. Mnemon was driven down into the stone floor to her armored knees, reeling. "Okay, that was new."

"I'm not accustomed to requiring restraint in such matters," Mnemon said as she wrenched her feet loose. "That's a powerful style, better than the orthodox styles I know, but you seem to have little skill with it. I, on the other hand, have mastered mine." She burst into a furious rush of kicks and punches that hammered Buffy across the room blow by blow. "I expect better of warrior Anathema. I heard you were nearly killed by Dukantha only a few days ago. And then your mortal scholar dispatches him?"

"He got in a lucky spell," Buffy grumbled. She genuinely wanted to unleash the style's berserker fury on this royal pain in the ass, but the only time she could recall cutting loose with it she'd woken up covered in blood ape guts. She didn't _think_ Mnemon deserved that.

"You fight with too much restraint, Despot. I hear everywhere how reluctant you are to kill humans. You do not seem to comprehend this: unleash your worst." She seized Buffy by the legs and slammed her against the wall, deliberately grinding a half-healed burn scar against the rough stone. "I can take it. I am a daughter of the Scarlet Empress. I am the Chosen of the Earth Dragon. Stop _insulting_ me!"

"All right," Buffy snarled. "You asked for it." In the back of her mind a warning tickle whispered that Mnemon was goading her, that this was a mistake...and then she realized _why_ Mnemon was goading her and decided she didn't care. Rage flooded through her, rage to burn the world. She lunged at Mnemon, and Mnemon...smiled.

Buffy seized Mnemon's head to twist it off her body, pulled her close, and crushed their lips together till she drew blood.

***

"That is not how that style is supposed to work," Buffy said an hour later in the rubble of the training room. Most of the weapons were bent or in pieces and the floor was covered in gravel from the walls.

"Who cares how it's 'supposed' to work?" Mnemon chuckled. "I'm tempted to have another go. I'm not even tired." She gestured at the stone floor. "Benefits of being an Earth aspect."

"Lucky you," Buffy said with a cough. "Personally I feel like a nap. But..and I hate to say this...I'd do it again sometime. I take it the Earth moved for you too?"

Mnemon laughed.

*****

Giles looked up as Buffy and Mnemon passed through the library, then sighed and began to clean his glasses. "Wesley is somewhere in the shelves. I'm sure he'd rather not be disturbed."

"That mortal knows too much magic already," Mnemon said, but she said it with a tolerant grin. "Shall we set a date, Despot Summers? I'd say tonight, but I'm not actually certain who has both the authority and the inclination to marry us."

"Eh, I always wanted a little fancy church wedding and a cute white dress." Buffy thought for a moment. "Maybe Anya'll do it?"

"You wish a former vengeance demon who punished unfaithful partners to officiate at your wedding?" Giles found all this darkly amusing, though he did understand the basis of all this dynastic foolery. "Wait. Now that I put it in those particular words, perhaps I see the function, if not the appeal."

"Because she's a heavenly official," Buffy pointed out, pouting a little. "Don't take the fun out of it. Anya's a Sidereal now," she explained to Mnemon.

"I don't know that your friends will carry the proper gravitas with Yu-Shan," Mnemon said. "Is she your age perhaps?"

"Anya just turned eleven hundred thirty-four," Buffy said smugly. "I told you, she was a demon for most of it."

For once, Mnemon appeared at a loss for words.

*****

"It just appeared," Lucien explained, gesturing to the open field of copper roses. "As I believe it to be dread Sacheverell's new incarnation, I have remained here to await instructions."

"I approve your course of action," Orabilis affirmed. "I'm not certain it was necessary, but it was prudent." He studied the squat basalt tower. "It's taller than it appears from the outside, isn't it?"

"Yes," Lucien agreed. "When I look at it, I hear a name, though I can't yet make it out. Short and a little harsh."

"This is she," Orabilis proclaimed decisively. "The traces are faint but clear. This was Sacheverell. So far as I can tell my will is unimpaired, but we should conduct tests."

The Guardian of Sleep could only nod.

*****

"Why have I been summoned here?" Calibration had ended with him bound here, and still his master had told him nothing but "Remain here till the time is ripe." When would the time be ripe?

The ghost in the fearsome mask only laughed, irritating him. His power was not yet fully built up after the summons, but he was angry enough to lay a hand on the fool anyway.

Nothing happened. "You're clean," he said, startled. "No righteousness in you at all."

The Mask of Winters' laughter roared in his ears.

*****

"I found it in my mother's effects," Mnemon said wistfully. "I suppose she meant it for a true equal, if she ever found one."

Buffy studied the ring Mnemon held. The broad scaly band was a mixture of black and crimson threads that never quite mingled. It quivered and pulsed as if almost a live thing instead of dead metal. "Not sure I like it," she said uneasily.

"Well," Mnemon said, "I was planning to be the one to wear it. We'll find you a ring you prefer. I know you don't think well of me, but I regret Mother never had a chance to wear it."

"She's dead for sure, then?" Buffy said with a frown.

Mnemon nodded. "Don't spread that knowledge, Despot, but I found the body myself."


	19. Conqueror Worm

Harmony had been sitting in front of the console for three hours now.

So, this was Silur's tomb--or rather, the Underworld reflection of Silur's tomb. Shoat saw a massive wall of rusted iron that stretched as far as the eye could see, and a single holographic console with a completely unfamiliar interface. Harmony had puzzled out the system in a matter of minmutes, at least as far as the interface was concerned, but they'd been standing around while she fiddled with it ever since.

"Friend!" Santangelo shouted in frustration. At least she was still in good humor. Shoat wanted to go kill something. 

"Already tried that," Harmony said. "Assuming this tomb works like the original, the passcode will combine a sensible command with a random element. That's how Silur believed magic worked. Like, the world was an arbitrary set of symbols and all you had to do was use the right syntax and shuffle them."

Gwen frowned. "Hey, can I see your phone?" There was no service down here, but Harmony had somehow patched the cell phone into the interface to decipher the symbols it used. "I just remember this story where the guy forgets a passcode because it's so arbitrary, and all he remembers is the category it belongs to." She hunted through a series of menus until she found what she was looking for.

"Are you serious?" Harm asked flatly.

"Story had to come from somewhere, right?"

Harmony shrugged and keyed it in. The iron surface rumbled, groaned...and split open to reveal a passageway coated in red dust.

"Open sesame," Gwen said.

**Chapter 76--Conqueror Worm**

The corridor stretched on and on, echoing their footsteps, dusting them lightly with the red dust of ancient rust. No doors. No turnings. After a while they stopped to let Harmony examine the walls. No hidden circuit patterns or concealed breaks. Santangelo tried too, cranking up her senses, and also found nothing.

"This isn't right," Shoat said after they resumed walking. "Abyssals don't grow."

Harmony began checking their height against the walls and low ceiling, but Shoat shook her head. "Not like that. Grow older, I mean. Grow up."

"Your clothes _are_ getting tight," Gwen agreed. "It's a good thing we all brought extra, I guess, but what's happening?"

"I have an idea!" Harmony piped up. "Gimme a minute to work it out!" And she plopped down on the floor again. "We've come...would you say a hundred yards?"

"About that," Santangelo said.

"Shoat, go another hundred yards and come back. You should be--"

"I'll be fine," Shoat grumbled. "Don't patronize me." After about fifty yards, she yelled back, "Ouch!", but quickly added, "Growth spurt."

"What's going on?" Gwen asked.

"Hypersphere," Harm said. "The hall is following part of the surface of a four-dimensional sphere. Time doesn't have to be the fourth dimension but it can be. I think we're traveling through time, our personal time I mean."

"I still shouldn't be getting older," Shoat called back.

"I think this...test or trap or whatever is calibrated to send us through our lives in the same time and distance," Harmony said thoughtfully. "That compensates for the difference in our life spans. I don't understand why yet." She held up her compact and studied her face. "Got a fine line or two."

"You're biologically nineteen!" Santangelo said. "Give me that!" She examined herself carefully. "Damn it. Well...do we keep going?"

"I'm trying to calculate the circumference of the hypersphere in years of average lifespan," Harmony said unhelpfully.

"Why?" Shoat wanted to know as she returned.

"Because it's the difference between making it all the way around and dying of old age or disappearing." Harm's voice was absolutely flat. "It'll help tell us if this is a test or a trap and what kind." Her face scrunched up. "I'm so low on energy I'm having trouble keeping my brain juiced up," she sighed.

Santangelo stepped up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. "Let me see if I can help. It's a Terrestrial thing."

"Ooh! Ooh! That's good!" Harmony typed faster. "Thanks bunches! I love it, Maria! Keep doing it!"

Santangelo shot an irritated look at Gwen and sighed.

*****

"We're supposed to be prepping for the Pyleans' arrival," Lilah said with a glare.

"We are," Helen said, "but this may indicate a glitch. It originated in the vicinity of the Deeper Well."

Lilah sighed and pressed "Play". The video began with gentle instrumentals and crooning...and a pan across the devastated hellscape that had once been the Demon City.

"I'm waking up...to ash and dust. I wipe my brow and I sweat my rust." Vines of brass and iron sprouted from the rubble and lifted it gently skyward. Basalt tree trunks propped up walls. "I'm breathing in...the chemicals."

"Catchy," Lilah said as the metal and stone plants began to erupt in Earth cities as well. "What's the band called?"

"No record of them," Helen said. "No name given in the video." Nightmare demons cavorted through the cities, which morphed and restructured themselves on impossible geometric lines.

Lilah winced. "Makes me see things behind my eyes. Are you getting that?"

"Yes. I couldn't watch it all. So I skipped to the end. May I?"

"No sense in being driven stark raving bonkers," Lilah said, and cut to the last twenty seconds.

"I'm radioactive, radioactive." As a green sun passed the yellow one, the camera panned past the tree of the Deeper Well, which twisted and transmuted into a squat basalt tower as a field of roses sprang up around it. Words appeared on the screen.

"'My death is only the beginning.' Huh. That line is getting old," Lilah remarked. "Who's using it now?"

"Sacheverell," Helen said. "Like all the Old Ones, he has a few surviving forms that were once human. The Deeper Well is one. He's as alive as the others."

"Any sign of change at the tree?" Lilah asked Mara, who shook her head.

"Not so far. But Lilah, this is...there hasn't been a new copy of the Broken-Winged Crane in millennia. The original was thought to have been written long ago and that was the end of it. It failed. Yet here it is again."

"What does it mean?"

Mara shrugged. "I'm as much in the dark as you."

*****

Shoat would have been done by now if the others would cooperate. Unfortunately, while the hypersphere time thingie didn't affect knowledge, it did seem to do a number on your emotional maturity. Hormones, probably.

They'd all spent some time creaking along, stopping to rest every five minutes--god that was awful; she never wanted to be old again. Then they'd gotten younger again, bottoming out in infancy so that Shoat had had to carry them until they could crawl again. Harmony had been the worst, whining and crying and trying to go the wrong way whenever she was put down. Shoat couldn't be honest and still complain. In another hundred yards, give or take a few, the others would be carrying her, and she'd probably be just as much of a brat. Santangelo had made a terrifying teenager.

"Hold up," Harmony said. "Something's not right here." She was the youngest right now, at five, and they were extra-lucky she could still think like a Twilight. "That section of the hall's irregular. I think it's got a door but I hafta check it." Her lisp had almost faded, thankfully.

"Hang on," Gwen said. She was seven. At least Shoat's spare clothes halfway fit her. "If we leave the corridor at this point what happens to us?"

"We stay this age until we come back thith way," Harmony said. "It can't really hurt us unleth we hafta reach something high."

"Are you sure? And what if we don't come back this way?" Santangelo was the oldest at all of nine. "I'm not looking forward to repeating puberty as a Dragon-Blood."

"If we don't we'll end up shunted into an alternate timeline," Harmony said in a confident tone. "Probably one where we're supposed to be thethe ages. It better let us come back this way."

"I can't just leave the path," Shoat protested. "I'm two."

"If we don't," Harmony reminded her, "we just come back to where we went in."

Shoat burst into tears as Harmony examined the irregular spot. "Got a pattern here. Five groups of three. Ok...here we go. It doesn't quite go all the way around." Her fingers slid into nigh-invisible depressions in the metal, which groaned and screeched as it rotated around the hidden circle. A door recessed into the wall and slid away.

Santangelo picked Shoat up. Shoat knew she shouldn't be wailing and shrieking, but couldn't stop herself. Being stuck at twelve was bad enough; she couldn't end up trapped as a two-year-old. She clutched futilely at the threshold as Santangelo stepped through--

\--and staggered at the shift in weight as Shoat reverted to being a tween. Shoat gasped for a moment and caught her breath, then wiped her eyes. "Sorry, guys...you made the right call, but, damn, that was scary."

"If Harm had gotten her figures right you'd have known what to expect," Gwen grumbled as she, too, returned to her proper age.

"It wasn't a math thing," Harmony said unhappily. "I had to guess based on principles and I was wrong. Sorry, ladies."

"It's done," Shoat said. "We're out. We need to figure out the next problem."

Harm frowned at the display station on the wall. "That's easy, looks like." But her voice was strained. "One of us has to die."

*****

Amy telekinetically hoisted Spike up the elevator shaft. "I don't think Robin even knows he's doing it," she said.

"He knows," Spike insisted. "I killed his mum."

"Well, I'm the only one not affected," Amy said as she helped him over the threshold, "and talking hasn't worked so far."

"Then you'd better start using your new witchy powers," Spike warned. "If Buffy can mind-control people, you sure as hell can."

"I can," Amy confirmed. It was something she wasn't supposed to do. All the good guys told her that. Naturally, the evil vampire disagreed.

"Then do it before they make a dust pile of me," Spike said. "Somebody's got to counter him."

Of course. This was different. She wasn't bending anyone to her will, just freeing them from someone else's. "We need to get them together, as many as we can handle. Ideally I want to do this in one casting."

"Do what in one casting?" Kate asked, bitterly disappointed. "Why're you protecting him?" The others began to crowd into the room--Faith, Robin, Angel, Lorne....

Amy took a deep breath. Windblown sand roared in her ears. "Because Robin's already used his mind-trick on you. Spike's no saint, but he's on our side. I swear he's an asset right now, not a threat."

For a long moment the sandstorm winds rose to a howl. The others shook their heads, but only Robin's motion was a denial. The rest of them were clearing their minds. Even Angel, who gave Spike an annoyed glare, turned and seized Robin by the wrists.

"We need better mental blocks," Amy said. "Lilah was one thing, but if Robin can zap us without even meaning to, we've got problems."

"Think you might want to listen to the witch," Spike said. Angel snorted. Robin rolled his eyes.

Oz nodded. "We'd better--"

Another face emerged out of the crowd as Oz spoke, shoving Robin and Oz aside with startled exclamations, a young, sandy-haired man who drove a dagger into Angel's heart. He pulled it out, licking the blood clean even as he stabbed a wooden stake back into the wound.

Faith's hand passed through Angel's body as he disintegrated, thrusting her own knife at the boy, but he slipped aside like a greased pig. Angel was spinning about even as he died as if hoping to see his killer's face, and Spike, surprisingly, was trying to grab and bite. Kate lunged at him, too, and it was she who managed to clamp her hands on his arm even as he began trying to shrink back into a fly or whatever he'd been hiding as. With a snarl, he head-butted her in the face, but Kate had dealt with that plenty of timea before. She slammed him to the floor, wrists behind his back.

"You have the right to remain silent," she began reflexively. Why was he laughing so hard?

*****

"Looks like it worked," Gwen said doubtfully as the hatch opened. Shoat lolled lifelessly in Harmony's arms.

"Actually I'm pretty sure it's broken," Harmony disagreed, carrying Shoat's body across the threshold. She began tickling the dead girl, who promptly woke up with a start, laughing uncontrollably.

"Not seeing where you're getting that," Santangelo said, looking around the vast empty grey sphere of a room.

"I think it's meant to mimic the trials of the Void," Harmony said. "The people who built it wanted anyone who reached the Mantle to, like, go through the same tests as anyone else. Except I've already been through the trials and you guys haven't. So I'm springing them for you and you're not learning anything. We've seen Infliction, where we were supposed to have to kill someone to not get trapped and either Memory or Stasis...where we were supposed to maybe be stuck aging and unaging over and over again for a while."

"So that's not really broken," Gwen said, "we just aren't a good fit."

"Eventually we'll get to the sacrifice part, that I would have to do to reach the next Circle by myself if I could, uh, reach the next Circle by myself." She touseled Shoat's hair. "Not sure what that'll be."

"What's this one supposed to be?" Santangelo asked. She walked a little way out across the sphere. "Gravity's the same no matter where I stand," she said.

"Door!" Shoat pointed out a hatch marring the smooth surface of the floor--or ceiling--directly across from them. She struck out for it immediately, likewise finding no difficulty walking on the sloping surface, and the others followed.

Just one problem. "The room's getting bigger," Santangelo said after a few minutes. "This is gonna take a while."

"Kinda think it's a space-time thing," Harmony suggested. "Maybe it won't take any longer outside than it would've."

"Sure hope not," Gwen grumbled.

*****

Insidious tendrils curled from Amy's forehead and sliced at Kate's thoughts. Kate gritted her teeth and fought, but the intangible energies continued to eat away at her strength.

Then, without any additional conscious effort on her part, the moon disc flared to life on Kate's brow, and the tendrils lost their hold...only to score a gouge across her forehead instead. "What the hell?"

"Sorry," Amy muttered. "Look, my big psychic attack works differently, okay? It changes physical force into mental force. When you broke that effect it just hurt you. I'm not the best person for this."

"Why not just use your spell?" Kate sighed and sat down.

"It's energy-expensive. It'd slow the training down a heck of a lot." Amy pulled out a spellbook. "I have been studying this alternative, but it'll take me a long time to master and it won't protect you from other stuff. I can make it so whenever Robin tries to talk about Spike being evil his words turn into...bugs or something."

"Won't do a thing if Lilah tries to trick us again." Kate grumbled.

"Nope. Or anyone else. But I've been trying not to learn any new mind control powers," Amy sighed. "I found this one by accident trying not to hurt Oz."

Kate sagged down into her chair. "Damn it, I hate to be in the position of telling you to get off the wagon."

"You could do it instead," Amy suggested. "Nobody worries about you losing control, and you've got some limited powers already. Sure, you mostly counter Lilah and do things like prevent riots, but that's cause you don't need the wagon to begin with."

"Said Frodo to Galadriel," Kate mused. "But maybe you're right, and we're short on options. I'll try. But you know I've never much cared how people think of me."

"And that's why you got kicked off the force," Amy countered.

Kate ground her teeth, but she didn't bother disagreeing. "Go patrol with your girlfriend. I'll work on my best Queen of California act."

*****

Harmony dragged her way up to the hatch. There hadn't been any obstacles, just a long, grinding journey across the ever-growing sphere. Or maybe they'd been shrinking. Or time had been slowing. It was all relative.

"I think that was meant for Melancholy _and_ Stasis," she sighed as she sagged next to the exit.

"Well, we got real challenges this time then," Shoat said, favoring her left leg a bit.

"That just leaves the sacrifice," Santangelo said, eyeing the door.

"And it has to be done by slow decay," Harmony agreed, "so don't ask me how it's gonna work or how long it's gonna take. We could totally be here for months."

"We won't last for months," Gwen warned. "We've gone through most of our rations. Even if you Exalted don't need to eat, I will."

"We all need to eat," Shoat said. "Unless somebody's sprouted new powers while I wasn't looking. Get the hatch open."

Harmony popped the hatch--the code was totally an absurdly-easy Fibonacci variant--and peered down into the darkness. "Sphere," she reported, "just big enough for us all to fit in this time. Blinkenlightzen. And...not sure what that pattern is."

"What's this got to do with a sacrifice?" Santangelo wanted to know.

Harmony shook her head. "You got me."

*****

Sam stretched herself like a cat. "I knew we'd figure it out eventually. How many days has it been since we slept?"

"Three," Riley said, bouncing a little on the mattress. "And that's just a beginning. You'll still get tired, though, so don't overdo it."

"I don't guess you got anywhere with Lilah," Sam wondered. "I know I can't have you all to myself these days, but there are still people I'd just as soon not share you with."

"We...had sex," Riley said, as neutrally as he could. "She was good in bed. She said I was boring but at least I was hung. As far as I know I agreed to it, so there's that. But she completely refused to release any more Exaltations. If she can take them back without us dropping dead, she will, and if not for the bad publicity she might not care if we did."

"We've got to try breaking and entering," Sam mused. "Maybe Faith can help us out?"

"Worth a try," Riley agreed. "Do I need to get into her pants too?"

Sam rubbed his shoulders. "No need. I know there's been...trouble between you."

"Eh...not really," Riley said. "I don't appreciate what she did, but as far as I knew she was Buffy. I can deal. Honestly there are people on the squad I'd rather trade for her if I could."

"Petersen?"

Riley chuckled. "She's off-putting, but I know where I stand with her. I was thinking of the Thweatt twins."

"I promise they don't normally do that," Sam said with a wry grin and a wink. "That was one time, their first chance to get knocked up by you, and they were...well, honestly they were pretty much gone. They've kept their hands off each other since."

"I'd hope so," Riley said faintly. "Some fantasies should stay fantasies."

"Does that include our third sixty-nine of the day?" Sam asked, grinning like a cat. Who'd gotten into the cream, no doubt.

"Not hardly. You're on, soldier."

*****

"...so the sum of the squares of y and z is always equal to the square of x," Harmony said. "The whole thing reduces to a trigonometry problem, which means that the sequence of reincarnations theoretically should, like...repeat forever. But it doesn't, so the theorem is false."

"I...didn't follow that at all," Santangelo said. "I'm not sure what this has to do with any sacrifice, either."

"So maybe I was wrong about the whole thing," Harmony said, and punched the second button. The hatch popped open, revealing yet another sphere, this one with five other hatches.

"Do you know where we're going?" Gwen asked. "Because this reminds me of a weird horror movie."

"To the center," Harmony said confidently. "It's easier than it looks, I swear."

"It better be," Shoat said, "because if it's not, _I_ swear I'll haunt you after this thing eats us alive."

Harmony shrugged and pulled herself through the hatch. "Hakuna matata!"


	20. Really Bad Eggs

"This doesn't look like a welcoming committee," Tara deadpanned.

They were finally out of the Wyld-tainted central archipelago, or on its edge at least, and at the border of the Realm satrapy called the Neck. Sure enough, Realm forces were out to greet them in...force. The Essence-powered ships in the opposing navy didn't look nearly as advanced as theirs, and parts of the fleet were old-fashioned sailing craft, but Dragon-Blooded swarmed in the rigging and across the decks, far more than Luthe had yet. And lots of the Luthea were out harassing the Skullstone navy.

"They don't have to welcome us," Xander said. "They don't even have to help us, only stay out of our way. Somehow I don't think it'll be that easy though."

"Just open up with the Essence cannons," Shadow said. "They'll break."

"If we have to, we will," Fred agreed. "But surely between you and Xander...and Tara we can talk this out with them."

"Don't forget the Dragon-Blooded," Willow said. "What if they've sworn to stop us?"

"Maybe we can still break through that," Xander said. "We'll see. Let's send over our diplomatic envoy team." Cannon fire and Terrestrial anima-light erupted from the oncoming fleet. "See? They're throwing us a party."

"Okay, then," Tara said, kissing first Willow, then Fred. She climbed aboard the skiff. "Let's go dance."

**Chapter 77--Really Bad Eggs**

"I am the Dread Pirate Roberts! Yet I do not come here to strike at the Realm! I lead my forces against the Black Fleet of Skullstone, the enemies of Creation, the strong right arm of the Deathlord named the Silver Prince! If you offer aid I will accept! If you let me pass I will not strike at you! But if you seek to impede me, beware!"

The unnaturally deep voice boomed out across the ocean, barely impeded by the noise of cannon fire. Peleps Aramida pondered the words carefully. "The Dread Pirate Roberts does speak some truth. The Silver Prince is a deadly foe to all who live."

"I find your lack of faith disturbing," came the cold response. "Yes, the Silver Prince is a vastly powerful Anathema. Yet we must trust in the Immaculate Dragons, not in other Anathema. When we have crushed this Roberts and solidified our control over the West, we will be in a better position to destroy Skullstone."

Aramida sighed and relayed attack orders across the breadth of the fleet. "I pray you're right, Deled. I worry about the damage this battle will do to the Water Fleet."

"I have been called to this position to counter the rapid growth in power of the Anathema here, Aramida." Deled's gaunt face showed no pleasure, nor his cold tone, merely ascetic devotion and disdain. "They have gained the allegiance of Wavecrest, and now they come here to claim the Neck--and who knows, perhaps Coral as well. If they challenge the Silver Prince, it is only for their own pride and glory. Would you cede them the entire Western Archipelago?"

Aramida could only shake her head reluctantly. "Never, Deled. My faith in the Dragons may not be as strong as yours, but I hold myself untainted by heresy. If we are to fail, it is the will of the Dragons that we fail in their service."

Deled weighed those words in the balance and nodded once, curtly. "But screw your courage to the sticking place, and in the Dragons' name, we'll not fail. It is only lack of faith that leads others to defeat, when it is not heresy outright."

"I am the Dread Pirate Roberts! I ask only that you allow me to come aboard for parlay! Can we not negotiate terms of passage so that I may strike our common enemy?"

Aramida sighed. She lifted one hand, and the water rippled and roared away from the keel of _Dragon's Fury_ in an ever-growing arc of shattered spray, like rapids in a rocky river.

*****

Massive chop struck the skiff and sent it bouncing up and down on the ocean like a trampoline. Shadow felt as if she ought to have been seasick, but in fact the motion was...relaxing.

"We're going to dive, Buff," Xander said. "You have the bridge."

That should have been a frightening idea. Instead it felt comforting. Alone on a ship? No one to get in her way. Xander and Tara dove over opposite sides of the skiff.

Turbulence or no turbulence, Shadow steered the skiff unerringly toward the enemy fleet's flagship, a vessel that should've been able to slam her little craft under the water with its wake alone. She lifted her little crossbow, sighted it towards the nearest vessel with a sail, and fired, focusing hard. She figured they expected her bolts to be accurate despite the distance they still had to cover. That she might have learned their own methods probably hadn't occurred to them. Her bolts burst into flame as they flew toward ships on either side of her.

Screens of blackwater anima snuffed her bolts and sent them spinning into the ocean. Okay, they were ready for that trick after all. Still, every little bit cost them.

An immense burst of water fountained the sea beneath her. Killing the ship's least god had taken a lot out of her; the spirit had been harmless. But the magic kept the ship afloat and unharmed now, though it leapt from the water and spun about.

This wasn't going to be like reaching Luthe. There was no friendly vessel behind a screen of enemies. At best, she might hope to talk to the commander and calm her down. But if she could...if any of them could...then they had yet another source of allies to assault Skullstone with.

She had to try.

*****

"You could have gone," Fred suggested to Willow. "I know you focus on other things, but you're still a Midnight. You're as qualified to negotiate as Xander, and you'd be with Tara."

"Tara wants to know she can stand on her own," Willow said. "She told me she needs some space after what happened...and she needs to get used to being near my level again. I pulled ahead of her as a witch, and then I Exalted...." She looked out overvthe ocean at the approaching fleet.

"She's still sort of a junior partner but not so much," Fred agreed. "Neither of you is running on double-A batteries any more, even if she's got a fission reactor and yours is antimatter."

Willow nodded. Light flared around her, and her body filled out again, taking on the image of life. Had Willow always been this pretty? Fred could easily imagine her as a Hollywood actress, unlike her own unenhanced self. Still..."Willow, I know you like to look this way, but--"

"It's just a trickle," Willow said soothingly. "You do the same, even though you're already of the geeky hotness."

Fred blushed. There wasn't much attractive about her. "If you need it."

"I am kind of planning to do the dark lord thing when the fleet closes in," Willow explained. "I figure this'll work better, and it'll draw attention away from you." Fred must've frowned at that, because Willow quickly stammered out, "You know, cause Lunars have always been out there but there were hardly any Solars. And you, you're the Queen and I'm nobody yet. Though I was starting to wonder if maybe I could take over Skullstone when all this is done."

"You'd make a great Dark Lady, Scholar," Fred opined. "I support you."

"Ships are getting closer," Willow said. "Maybe I should try a spell?"

"Careful with your mana," Fred reminded her. "Wizard shouldn't need food badly in the middle of a naval engagement."

"I know how to conserve energy," Willow said, just a touch chidingly. "I promise this'll be worth it. That's the flagship, right?" She pointed at the massive high-tech vessel from which the worst of the water turbulence was emanating.

"Looks like it," Fred agreed. "And no Scoobies aboard yet."

Willow lifted both hands and spoke a word of power. The soft golden light of her anima flared to ruby hardness, and a blinding fiery bird like a phoenix shot from her palms. It covered the distance to the flagship in mere moments. Just as it was about to strike, a cowled figure tried to parry it with anima and bare hands, but the bird exploded into a fireball despite his best efforts. An inferno covered the ship's deck.

"Willow," Fred said nervously, "what about trying to negotiate?"

"Now we work from a position of strength?" Willow said, not sheepish at all but completely seriously. Fred put her palm to her face.

*****

Xander let go of the shark's fin and seized hold of the rudder, then began to scale the ship plank by plank. He wasn't quite good enough, he'd discovered, to climb the flagship's hull rivet by rivet.

Well, all in good time. He just needed to get aboard an enemy vessel and then he'd find his way to where he needed to be.

He emerged into a hail of magical energy bolts. Green and blue, red and black, they burst past him in a storm of absolute force, making him block several with Wavecleaver.

He'd just made it onto the deck when a firebird manifestation straight out of _X-Men_ (or for the real comics geek, _West Coast Avengers_ ) shot by in the other direction and detonated atop the flagship deck, sending screaming crewmen diving into the water wreathed in fire. Scattered Dragon-Blood firefighters rushed about trying to contain the blaze; moments later, as the greater part of it died, more crewmen burst b from the hatch to take stations. And two badly-burned but living Water Aspects rose from the deck, an armored woman and a bald man.

"Slaughter the Anathema!" the man cried out, and Xander lost no more time in scrambling up the rigging to find a rope line to swing over to the other deck with. "They dare to strike at us! Drown them in blood and seafoam!"

Xander wasn't halfway through undoing the rope, but a golden image of him manifested in front of the angry man. "Yeah, we dare shoot one fireball at the people lobbing cannonballs, firedust, and energy bolts at us. What effrontery. How dare we even know the meaning of the word?" He wrapped the rope around his fingers and leapt. Sailors in the rigging began to yell at him. "It's an important word to know the meaning of, effrontery."

Xander didn't get to see the bald man stab his image with a huge harpoon, since he was swinging through the bottom of his arc just then, but he came shooting up over the edge in time to hear the guy shout "No quarter, Anathema! No parley! The Dragons' wrath lies on you till death!" as the illusion dissolved.

"Them's fightin' words," Xander said as he sprang onto the deck in front of the man. Wavecleaver all but leapt into his hands to fend off a harpoon thrust. "You sure you want to throw down with a one-hundred-percent genuine Solar Anathema? Cause I'd be _real_ sure of that if I was--" The spear nearly went through his guts before he could squirm aside. "I take it you're pretty confident, then."

"I am Peleps Deled. I am the Master of the Pinnacle of the Wyld Hunt." Wavecleaver and the harpoon clashed once, twice, six times. "My faith in the Immaculate Dragons is absolute. And you? You are nothing to me, Anathema."

*****

Willow didn't get it. Okay, if she'd struck at the wrong time she might have hurt one of the others, but she'd planned it all out perfectly. Now the fleet was closing on Luthe and its nominal defensive patrol--not that it needed one much!--and its command officers were injured or caught in a running battle on deck.

Lightning crackled past her, so she returned some of her own--now bolt-shaped daggers, now actual golden bolts, contrasting with the Air-aspected blue-white. "Got a storm coming on," she quipped.

"You worry me, Willow," Fred murmured. "You go to all this trouble to look like yourself again, but it seems to me like you're less yourself than when you were a mummy. Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"You're just jealous 'cause you can't do anything from here yet," Willow observed.

Fred just rolled her eyes. "Towers of Azure, activate subsidiary guns."

"Acquiring firing solutions," the AI reported. "Firing." With that, Towers opened up with the machine-gun emplacements Xander had installed, raking the decks of every ship in range save the flagship.

"As I was saying," Fred resumed, "I'm worried about you, Willow."

Willow ground her perfect Solar teeth. "It's nothing."

*****

Every ship has drains, First Age dreadnoughts no less than simple triremes. If they did not, mere surf would flood them, given enough time. Those drains are meant to be one-way, but a determined creature could force its way inside most; such creatures merely are not common in nature.

Lunar Exalted break that rule. Tara slithered up the drain in the form of an eel that flopped about for the few moments it took the sailors to turn their eyes to other work. Before they could look back she was a human girl bashing their heads together. She didn't have a one-liner on hand, so she just mimicked the fallen sailor's uniform and began jogging up the stairs. No one looked twice at her; crewpeople were running hither and yon everywhere she went.

By the time she reached the top deck it was covered in firefighters putting out the aftermath of some minor catastrophe, and Xander was trading blows with a burnt, bald man, completely oblivious to the woman raising her hands to, no doubt, blast him from behind.

"Hey," Tara said. "We offered you parley. Aren't you a little ashamed of yourselves?"

The woman in armor jumped, blinked, and turned to aim her palms at Tara instead. "We don't owe you a word, Anathema." But she didn't fire.

Tara was new at this. But she knew from Willow that people found her attractive, even cute. That they underestimated her. That her shyness only drew them in. She dropped her eyes. "I just thought that having a common enemy was at least reason to t-talk about our p-problems before fighting." She was a friend, only here to talk, a little frustrated at not being listened to.

The woman still didn't blast her. She was dark-haired, with epicanthic folds and a faint bluish tinge to her skin. Tara smiled uncertainly at her, and she responded, "Only if you were really on a different side from Skullstone. But nice try."

Tara held out her open palms. The woman didn't seem to realize what Tara was doing to her feelings. She wanted to keep it subtle, limited. Makeup and roofies could both net you smoochies, but only one was wrong. "I'm Tara Maclay. I'm not even from around here. I promise, I'm not interested in hurting you, or the Realm, or taking anything that isn't mine."

"Peleps Aramida," the woman said, mouth twisted wryly. "I hope you realize I can't just take your word for that." A flicker of her eyes warned Tara to step aside as another Terrestrial threw a flying kick at her. Tara caught the man midair and slammed him onto the deck. "I'd love to have help dealing with the Silver Prince, but I have my orders." And she flung a blast of green energy at Tara.

The burst knocked Tara back and set her to coughing as seawater filled her lungs. She hacked it up, staggering aside from the follow-up bolt. "I'm disappointed, Aramida. I thought we could t-talk like reasonable adults." The man Xander was fighting was still shouting insults about Anathema and Dragons. He sounded like her father. "But I guess some people disapprove of that."

The bald man shot her a glare, but Xander had him pinned down, forcing his lance away by the crossguards. Tara shoved a Terrestrial lining up for a roundhouse punch on her left, knocking him off balance and spoiling the blow. Aramida said, _sotto voce_ , "Deled disapproves of most things."

"I hope you don't have any secrets from him," Tara said softly. She picked up a fallen barrel and tossed it at the bald man's legs, knocking him to the floor just as Xander thrust with his sword. Wavecleaver sank in up to the hilt, but when Xander pulled the blade out the wound vanished save for a burnt-red scab. Deled still groaned loudly as he got to his feet.

Aramida didn't answer her, but the next bolt of energy she fired went wide. Shadow was finally climbing over the railing beyond Xander; she had taken a few cuts. She traded quips with a lithe, white-haired man who rushed at her.

"If you were to give the order," Tara wondered, "do you think the fleet would stand down and let us talk?"

Aramida shook her head. "Never the Wyld Hunt," she said warningly, "and Deled would have my head for it. Or worse."

Tara thought that over, stepping aside so that a pair of swordsmen rushed past her and collided with each other. She wasn't a killer, not even of demons. Not unless she had to be.

But sometimes you had to be.

Tara and Aramida circled one another. Tara's jaw sprouted, elongated, wicked snaggled teeth emerging from her gums. Aramida gasped; coming from a woman so hardened, that gasp had to indicate Tara's face was utterly horrifying right then.

As they came around, Deled was trapped between Tara, Xander, Shadow, and a wall. Tara ignored the risk of Aramida blasting her again. Why shouldn't she? They were _friends_. Xander raised Wavecleaver to stab at Deled again...

And Tara's jaws closed around the bald man's head. She felt, and heard, his neck crunch, tasted blood and spinal fluid in her mouth. She hadn't been hungry before; now the sensations made her feel ill. She opened her mouth and let Deled's head roll out onto the deck.

Shadow and Xander stared as if they'd never seen her before. Tara reached out to put a hand on her jaws and "shove" them back into her face. The battle had grown eerily quiet. Other Terrestrials were staring at her too, her and Deled's headless body. Someone whistled. "--had it coming," someone whispered.

She'd killed the man. What was she thinking? Of course she'd killed him. He was...rabid. Like her father, only with extra violence and superpowers on the side. She'd killed a man. Not in the heat of combat with him, but just...because it needed doing. She'd...not even thought about what she was doing till it was done.

Tara sank down cross-legged onto the deck, heedless of the faltering battle. "Did I hear a call for parley?" Peleps Aramida called out, but the sound was curiously distant.

"Parley," Xander agreed.

Shadow tried to pull Tara to her feet, but Tara pulled her down instead. "Did I really--?"

"It was the cost," Shadow said firmly. "Somebody had to pay it. I...didn't think you'd be the one, but it had to be done."

"He'd never have let us talk," Aramida confirmed. "If you wanted that, he had to be dealt with first."

Tara knew that sometimes the price of peace was death. She'd just never been the one to hand it over before. Numbly she let them pull her to her feet.

*****

Chairs were brought out onto the open top-deck of _Dragon's Fury_ , and Shadow gestured for everyone to take a seat. "I know we have some big differences here," she began. "I don't think those differences matter that much when we're up against an evil undead overlord. Anyone want to disagree?"

A few of the Dragon-Blooded officers raised their hands, but they looked a little sheepish doing it. "You're Anathema," a bald woman with a complexion like soot argued. "The values you represent run completely counter to everything the Immaculate Faith espouses. Individualism, disorder, risk...."

"Life?" Tara managed weakly. Shadow worried that Ma-Ha-Suchi's memories were affecting her more than they'd expected. Or maybe the "moon-madness" the Sage had mentioned happened from time to time. The idea that lovable, peaceful Tara could literally bite a man's head off--even an asshole like Peleps Deled--was, um...hard to swallow.

"The Immaculate Order does share that in common with you," the monk admitted. "The Underworld is an aberration against the cycle of existence."

"I'll be the first to second that notion," Xander said with a smirk. "Look, I'm not asking you to like us. I'm asking for a temporary ceasefire so that we can work together against Skullstone. Think of it as...a chance to demonstrate your values as better than ours. What do you say?"

"I say we don't have the authority to suspend Realm directives or deny basic tenets of the Immaculate Faith," Peleps Aramida said reluctantly. "Please don't misunderstand me. I value your assistance against the Silver Prince. But to open up the crews of my fleet to potential reprisals isn't just disloyalty to them. Under the circumstances, it could further destabilize the Realm itself. Tge Water Fleet represents the second-largest portion of the Realm navy. If we seem to be going rogue....well, think of what that might do. I...I simply can't authorize it."

"That's all right," said a faintly familiar voice, deep for a woman and poshly-accented. The heads of every Terrestrial in the room spun to look. "I can."

"Mnemon?" Aramida stared openly. "I was given to understand you were moving against Anathema forces in the far South."

"Events have outrun rumor," Mnemon said. "The Anathema and I fought to a stalemate. Rather than waste more lives and equipment, we signed a treaty. And within the next two weeks I intend to seal that treaty with a wedding."

That produced a range of comments from startled to outraged--the latter mostly from the monks. "Mnemon," the dark-skinned Fire aspect said, "surely you can't seriously--"

"I can," Mnemon said. "I will, because this is what it will require to preserve Creation. That outweighs the Order. That even outweighs the Realm, should it come down to it."

"Are you here to fetch me for the Anathema to marry?" Aramida wanted to know. "Because if you intend to use me as a spy or a tool--"

Mnemon waved her hand dismissively. "Hardly. I'm going to marry Buffy Summers myself. Despot?"

Dressed in resplendent red-and-black robes, Buffy stepped up to the table, face red, eyes shifty. "Um...hi guys? Mnemon, time to meet my friends."

Mnemon's lips curled into a smile that never touched her eyes. "Delighted, Despot Summers, I'm sure." She held out a hand for Buffy to take. "Introduce us...darling."


	21. Fair Trade

"I'm still having trouble believing I did that," Tara said, holding her stomach tightly.

"Sweetie," Willow said, rubbing her back, "I know you don't like violence. But the Exaltations are weapons, and...it's not even that they change you. If you didn't have it inside you, they couldn't create it."

"Being a Lunar can be really visceral at times," Fred acknowledged. "It's not for the squeamish. But...isn't that nature? I thought you were big on nature." She massaged Tara's feet, which was comforting but not as helpful as the backrubbage.

"It is," Tara said reluctantly. "I think some Wiccans confuse 'natural' with 'moral'...which is something I know about from a different angle, too. Nature is violent, and painful, and we can't always fix that, but that doesn't make it good. You have to respect nature. You don't always have to agree with it."

As she finished speaking, the doorway slid open, and Mnemon snorted. The marble statue of a woman shook her head dismissively. "Are you still going on about this? About killing a man who'd have killed you without a second thought? Whose own soldiers obeyed largely out of fear of him?"

Tara frowned. Something wasn't right about this. To buy herself a moment, she nodded and said sternly, "Yes. I am. If I weren't, why wouldn't I do the same to you?"

"Out," Mnemon snapped, pointing to Willow and Fred. "I'll speak to you later, but I'd like a word with this one alone." When they didn't budge, Mnemon added, "I'll not hurt her. You have my word."

"Sweetie," Willow said, "just call if you need us. We'll hear." _Let's not make her mad,_ she added silently.

Tara nodded reluctantly and waited till they were gone. Then.... "You don't fool me. You're not Mnemon. Old as she is, you're older, and a lot more powerful. I can see it in your aura."

Mnemon's eyes went wide. "Well. I see I've underestimated you. None of you three are fools, but I had you down as least bright. In that case..." Her form swam and melted, becoming that of a much younger woman. Tara's breath caught. Mnemon was pretty, but this girl was _gorgeous_ , not to mention nearly naked. Red hair flowed down her back. Spiraling silver tattoos ran beneath the leather straps that made up her entire outfit. Her eyes were dark, sharp, and ancient, yet she had a baby-face with high cheekbones and dimples. Her legs were long, her curves were more voluptuous than Tara's, and her nails--all of them--were sharpened claws. She didn't look even Tara's age--not physically, at least. But that aura told Tara conclusively that this was no sixteen-year-old. "My name is Raksi. And I'm here to tell you...it's all right to be squeamish. I was, too."

**Chapter 78--Fair Trade**

"You see me as I was at the Usurpation," Raksi said. "I was in university at Sperimen. You remind me of myself--so shy I could barely deliver a report in person."

"That's...that's hard to b-believe," Tara stammered. Goddess, this girl was beautiful! Just looking at her made Tara uneasy; she felt like a pervert, even knowing for a fact that this "child" was closer to Anya's age than her own.

"Let me tell you a secret," Raksi said. "You'd have done it anyway. You'll do it again. Solars are bound by propriety; that's their weakness. We aren't. I've heard about you, pretend-demon-girl. I know your story. You're one of us for a reason."

"You spied on me during the tattooing," Tara concluded. "Raksi, you can do what you like to me, but I'm not going back to your lost city to eat babies. That's not me, no matter what you say."

"I wouldn't ask," Raksi said with a wink. "There's no need. You interest me. I want nothing from you but knowledge, and I'm prepared to give full value in return."

"Full value?"

"Fred's found her way," Raksi said, her grin wide and toothy. "She's a masterful cheater. Sorcery will only ever be a sideline for her, I think. But you...I want to teach you. I want to show you what a power a Lunar can be. No strings attached, Tara. I like you." She sidled closer until she was millimeters away, still somehow nowhere in contact. "Come with me. Let me show you what a witch really is."

Tara knew she should scream for help. Or, if she were going to be all defiant and risky, laugh in the woman's face. "Okay," slid from her lips, and she couldn't call it back. "Show me."

*****

Xander studied Mnemon, and she stared back at him openly. He didn't _think_ it was like that--but who knew? She was Dragon-Blooded, after all. "I was expecting someone more impressive," she said at last.

"It's not the size of the dog in the fight," Xander said. "It's the size of the fight in the dog."

Mnemon gave that the briefest of chuckles. "Fair enough. You're charming and not unattractive; you're simply not the slab of meat I was anticipating. Buffy tells me you've been saving the world alongside her for five years."

"Most of that's been donut runs," he admitted. "I was the last guy without any special powers; even the G-man can cast some spells. But when push came to shove, I could...shove. I even hit a hellgod with a wrecking ball just before Buffy fell through the portal here. I stopped some zombies from blowing up the school in the middle of an apocalypse, and I got Buffy the military hardware that took out the Judge."

That earned him a curious frown. "Is the Judge blue? Does he burn the righteous?"

"That's our demon you're describing."

Mnemon's eyes went wide; for the first time since he'd seen her she looked both startled and genuinely impressed. "I had no idea Buffy had defeated Cecelyne's fetich soul. And you participated in this? As a mortal?"

"I just stole the rocket launcher," Xander said slowly. "Buffy's the one that did the exploding. We don't think that actually killed him, either." Mnemon was still staring. "He was still building up his energy. You know, where at first he had to touch you, and by the time we kablooeyed him he was about to massacre a whole shopping mall at once."

"He had to build up his essence stores," Mnemon said, pondering this. "I must remember your rocket launcher. Just in case I ever have to face him. There truly were no other Exaltations in your world, or you'd have surely been granted one before now."

"Okay." Could have gone over worse, considering what he was to her. "I'll take that as a 'Cool'." 

*****

"You _built_ this?" The aircraft was little more than a bathtub with seats and a windshield, but it was screaming along at what had to be hundreds of miles per hour, and Tara wasn't even having trouble breathing.

"This?" Raksi laughed. "This is trivial, Tara. This is nothing. Wait until you see the remains of Sperimen. Only the campus still stands, but that is enough. I once almost managed to construct a protoshinmaic vortex on my own."

"A proto...." Tara had to parse that one out. The shinma were the underlying structure of reality; a vortex in or of them would be something like a black hole. "You made a singularity? And it didn't eat Creation?"

Raksi made a dismissive gesture with her left hand. "I wasn't quite able to complete it. Some bumbling local Solar ran across me."

"What were you planning to do with it?" They were crusing along above a frozen sea, with a short range of huge mountains to the south.

"Anything I wanted. Yes, that's a personal freedom-and-power thing, but more practically, a protoshinmaic vortex is an energy source. I believe I heard you talking about nuclear reactors, though I'm not sure how they compare." Raksi began to angle the craft slowly south. "You have the power to become anything, Tara. Not merely animals, or even people. You can be a demon or a god, a raksha or a ghost. The Exalted surpass the creators of the universe. The question then becomes, what will you do with that power?"

"I've always tried to use magic for healing and protection," Tara started, but Raksi overrode her.

"Even the Deathlords do that--to their lands and armies, if nothing else." Raksi sighted ahead as if searching the horizon before angling toward a stand of pine trees. "Healing and protection aren't ends, Tara. They're means. If you hadn't found demons in your world, what would you have done with your little sorceries? What would you want to build or change?" Tara opened her mouth, then closed it again without answering. "Never given it any thought, then?"

"I guess I always thought of magic just on a personal scale," Tara said quietly. "Anything bigger than that was dangerous. Evil, probably."

"Because it was magic? Or because it changed the world?" Tara felt queasy; for a mad, evil witch, Raksi's arguments sounded disturbingly rational. That didn't make them right, but it made them less wrong than they might have been. "Your stories of heroes from your world are so rarely about growth or change. Your 'Superman', your 'Fantastic Four', they do little but preserve the status quo. It's as if you fear advancement."

Tara thought about objecting that comics tried to mirror the real world...but the real world didn't have a Latveria or (as far as she knew) an Atlantis. Realistic or not, a fictional world could probably have super-technology or public magic and still mimic the world she knew, too. As the pines began to fill the horizon, she began to wonder: did Raksi have a point?

What were they afraid of?

*****

"Those look rough, Buff." Xander made Buffy turn her head so he could get a better look at the brass burn scars on her face. "They going to heal up?"

"From what I hear, yeah," Buffy said. "They're nothing, though. Take a look at these," she said, and pulled aside the black robe fabric that covered her stomach. Beneath was rough black stone. "Got stabbed in the gut," she murmured. "Some new healing powers took care of it...kinda. Apparently akuma have been doing it for years...not the most comforting thought."

"We're negotiating command structure with the Water Fleet," Xander said. "Came out to defend the Neck from us, staying for the fight with Skullstone, thanks to Mnemon. What's up with her? Didn't she attack Gem?"

"It's all politics," Mnemon said from her comfy chair. "My goal is strong leadership--my leadership--from the Blessed Isle. If that means political marriage to an Anathema and alliance with her circles of friends, the survival of Creation justifies it. Not that your friend is anything other than a beauty, you understand."

"Well believe you me, I've known that for years," Xander agreed. "She didn't return the appreciation, though, so I can wish you the best of luck together." Strange to think of Buffy married to a girl...not unwelcome, of course, just strange. Of course she'd married that demon, too. Was she planning to poison Mnemon after the wedding?

The door panel slid open, and..."You," Anya said.

"Me?" Mnemon smirked. "Yes, me. Is it some sort of problem?"

"Mnemon," Buffy warned, "this is my Sidereal friend, Annie...no, Anya. Sorry, Anya, but you're the one who put me inside Fate."

Anya sized Mnemon up; the Terrestrial returned the favor. "May the two of you be very happy together and give each other a great many orgasms. Buffy, are you sure this is what you want?"

"I'm sure she'll be a challenge," Buffy said offhandedly. "But we can get along, and we're useful to each other. It'll be a barrel of monkeys."

"Monkeys?" Mnemon queried.

"By all accounts," Anya said, "they're loads of fun."

"You have a strange concept either of monkeys or of fun," Mnemon said, and shook her head in bafflement.

*****

The craft touched down lightly in a clearing in the jungle, sending monkeys scattering for cover. They _were_ monkeys...weren't they? The creatures seemed very large and upright, but they had long prehensile tails.

They had come down directly in front of a wall like clear glass, but from the air she had seen more than that. Thirteen skyscrapers stood here, a ring of buildings around a central hexagonal structure, each different in ways subtle and overt.

"Behold the lost glories of Sperimen," Raksi exclaimed wryly. "Behold Mahalanka, the City of a Thousand Golden Delights!"

"This was the campus," Tara observed. The central field was like a great quad, though now overrun with vines except on its shining paths. "How long have you lived here?"

"Since the beginning," Raksi mused. "I spent a long time away, I guess. This is where I learned sorcery. I had to flee during the Usurpation, but eventually I came home."

There was something subtle about her expression...Tara would never have caught it before, lost in comparison of the buildings...each its own unique masterpiece. Something nostalgic. A glimmer.... "Liar," she said without thinking. Raksi's eyes went wide with outrage. "This isn't where you live. Not really. You use this place, you've g-got rooms here, but this isn't home. It's changed too much. It's not what you remember."

Raksi's face went from shocked fury to dull resignation to amusement, even...appreciation? "Do you know how few people have realized that? All of them ancients. If not from my time, then from the high years of the Shogunate. So...you've been honest with me about where you're from." She strode forward into a slowly-gathering crowd of worshipful primates. "As above," she said, "so below. As within, so without. Come take my hand."

Tara slid her fingers into Raksi's, feeling the alien joints of a hand that could fold in any direction. Raksi pulled her forward--an outline shimmered--

The jungle vanished. The campus remained, but now it thronged with humans, and with animal-people of all kinds, not just simians. Its streets were mostly clear, though a network of climbable vines remained. And beyond, the city stretched outward and upward, towering spires, blocky or curved, shining or matte, all the colors of the rainbow. "You just joined the most elite fellowship in the world," Raksi murmured. "Welcome to the First Age reborn. Welcome to my true home...New Sperimen."

*****

"A gift," Gavrane Tomazri proclaimed, "from the Free Luthea to Mnemon and the Scarlet Realm: the first jade daiklaive produced in Luthe in the new age, Cresting Tsunami Sickle." The octopoid Air aspect, Ftaghn-Vlu, stepped forward, holding the sword in her claws. Some of the Realm forces hissed in revulsion at the sight of the beast-woman, but no one near the front where they could be identified.

"From Dragon-Blood to Dragon-Blood," Ftaghn-Vlu said haltingly, "my creation." She was far more used to the Deep Sage language of skin color.

Mnemon took the slender weapon, gingerly avoiding Ftaghn-Vlu's claws. She pricked her finger on the tip, then brandished it carefully, then hefted it in both hands. "A blade of superior quickness," she said with an appreciative smile. "I thank you." She inclined her head the tiniest fraction.

Tomazri smiled faintly. "To the Realm, the Free Luthea offer friendship and loyalty as our long-separated family. To the Realm, Luthe offers an alliance against the undead menace of Skullstone, and a partnership for future peace."

Mnemon looked him in the eye and returned his smile. "Mnemon, and to my power the Realm, recognizes House Gavrane." Sharp intakes of breath. The Dragon-Blooded on both sides had wondered whether the Luthea families would be recognized as a House (till now reserved for the Empress' descendants), a Gentes (long obsolete outside Lookshy, the Realm's enemy), or something else. Well, that was settled. "We recognize all oaths sworn by House Gavrane, save in enmity to Creation." And there was the fig leaf for recognizing Luthe's current government--at least until the "Anathema" put a foot too badly wrong. "We formally open treaty negotiations with the government of Luthe." Behind Mnemon, the Water Fleet representatives sounded off, a restrained sort of cheer, so Tomazri signaled for his forces to do the same.

They were off to a good start. Dragons forbid they squander it.

*****

"Excuse me," Willow began as the assembly began dispersing.

"No," Mnemon responded. "I have a meeting."

Willow stumbled, started to walk away, and caught herself. "I just need to know where you left Tara. I haven't seen her all day."

"I haven't spoken with Tara," Mnemon said impatiently. "I've been trying to avoid Fred and the two of you until formal negotiations with Luthe begin."

"Well...they've begun," Willow said, struggling. She sounded lame to herself. "And anyway, you came in to see all three of us, you shooed us out to lecture Tara about something, and we haven't seen her since!"

Mnemon's eyebrows rose slowly until Willow finished. Then she shook her head once. "That was not me. I suggest you see to your girlfriend, and quickly. Goodbye." And she strode away.

Willow wanted to say more, to call out. She couldn't make herself do it. Weren't Zeniths and Midnights supposed to be good at speaking up? Except she hadn't been training herself in that, had she? She'd been trying to change her face. Faith had tried to warn her. Even if this thing about her looks really was something she'd had to do, now she needed to play catch-up, to focus on the things she was already good at and the ones the Exaltation was set to make her good at.

Until she learned how to alter the default settings, anyway.

Fred was setting up in the conference room. "Tara's missing. Mnemon says she never talked to us."

"Someone in disguise," Fred said, setting down her papers. "We've got...no. Willow, I have to stay here. Go find her. Does Towers have anything to say?"

"Last seen on the rear deck," Willow said with a shrug. "Didn't leave in any recognized craft, no record of her presence for a full twelve hours during the negotiations."

"Go," Fred said. "I'll handle the political stuff. If you're not back with her when it's all set out, I'll come for both of you. Towers, what about a vector on Tara's departure? Can you do that?" The AI rattled off a series of numbers. "So east," Fred muttered. "That's something."

"I'll find her," Willow promised.

"You'd better," Fred said, very very softly.

*****

Tara struggled not to just stand there and stare. "You m-made this?" she stammered at last.

"The place, the animals, the buildings, the people..." Raksi said. "Oh...not these people specifically. They get older, have kids, die...I think just about everyone here is descended from me by now, aside from any question of direct creation. Worlds like these used to be commonplace for the Exalted. Solars built them in the Wyld, we in Elsewhere. They found it somewhat easier, but I built all this a few decades after I fled into the Wyld. Now...time to start learning. Off with your clothes."

Tara blinked and came back to herself. "What? Wait--"

"I'm not trying to get a peek at you," Raksi said, giggling. "I could do that any time. These people here are real individuals. You've been naked in the company of your friends, but not in public, so far as I know. I want you to practice violating social mores as sorcery violates natural law. Strip!"

Tara just stood there, startled. She understood about some rituals being done skyclad, but they were usually practiced out of public eye. She started to shapeshift her clothing away, but Raksi held up her hand.

"No. Deliberately, publicly, _manually_ remove your clothes."

"You're sure this isn't about watching me g-get naked?" Tara hoped the shirt covering her face kept Raksi from realizing just how bright red she was. Passers-by began to call out offensive or offended comments.

Raksi chuckled. "To be fully honest, you look delightful. Very plump and juicy. But while I do enjoy the company of women from time to time, I discovered long ago that I prefer my lovers to have a dick. So, no worries. Right?"

"Right," Tara said absently. That should put her off the hook. Somehow something seemed wrong about that, but for the moment she couldn't remember what. She was just lucky Raksi hadn't gone ahead and mind-controlled her. Then Tara would really be in trouble. She tossed her clothes aside where Raksi pointed. She could always get more later.

*****

"I'm not sure we should worry too much about Tara," Mnemon said as the pelagothropes brought beverages to the table. "Surely she can take care of herself. She's a grown woman and an Exalt."

Dawn scowled. "She is...but...." How did she explain this? "Tara was the last Scooby to Exalt and she's still playing catch-up. And she's really sweet and nice and everyone loves her. And Willow in particular loves her...also Fred," she added doubtfully. Fred seemed nice, but Dawn didn't know her nearly as well. "And she's Buffy's Lunar mate. Which apparently isn't always a sexy thing. Or...something. They're like sisters."

"So everyone misses her," Mnemon said, "but their concerns are likely unwarranted. Unless some of the Immaculates working with the Fleet have gone rogue, and then more of you would know by now." She sipped her drink and smiled. "Interesting and exotic. Quite nice," she said to the nearest waitress. "Convey my compliments to Blue Anemone."

Shadow made a face. "I just don't know why she'd go running off by herself right now if she's okay. In the city, maybe, but what's so interesting out in the ocean?"

"Many cultures here live below the waves," Mnemon pointed out. "People of the Sea. Dragon Kings. Beastfolk of all sorts. And who knows what else she might have encountered on a chance swim?"

"Sea monsters?" Dawn pointed out.

"Possibly," Mnemon argued, "but most likely she'd have killed it and returned. Otherwise, it has killed her and she won't likely be found. And if she encountered a creature likely to kill an Exalt, I'd have expected to see it, or at least hear that someone else had."

"I guess you're right," Dawn mumbled.

"I hardly begrudge the Scholar going to find her lover," Mnemon said. "I'm just pleased that Fred and Buffy didn't also race off when there are talks to conduct."

"So when's the big wedding?" Shadow asked hurriedly. Dawn was having trouble reading her mood, which...well...it was her other self getting hitched, so how the heck would anyone feel about that? Shadow was definitely excited, at least.

"At the conclusion of the talks, to finish them out," Buffy said, rushing up. "I know this is all rushed and freaksome and everything, Shadow. It's not anything like how...or _who_ we expected to marry, but Mnemon and I are actually kind of hitting it off. For a political marriage that's practically soul-mate territory." Dawn's jaw dropped; Mnemon had just given Buffy a wink.

"She gets it," Mnemon said simply. "She's more politically-adept than I expected, and she's good in bed." Dawn covered her face and peeked out between her fingers. "She doesn't make it more than it is, either. We find each other interesting and pleasant company, and as she says, that's more than many political couples get. And if she wants to plan a spectacular wedding in spite of all that, well...I _am_ the presumptive heir of the Empress. It's only fitting."

Shadow laughed quietly and shook her head. "You're welcome to her, 'me'. I guess we really are getting more and more separate. Faith and I did a thing--" Dawn covered her eyes again; Faith had been a centaur till just before leaving! "--but I really think I wanna settle down with a guy."

"Well," Buffy pointed out, "that's an advantage to being more than one me at a time. We can do both!" Everyone but Dawn laughed, and even Dawn was glad the Buffies were happy. Fred and Xander and Tomazri came in in some sort of dress uniforms, and Mnemon and Buffy went over to the main table with Peleps Aramida to start the talks.

Tara was going to be fine. She could take care of herself.

*****

The Windblade was orichalcum, unfortunately. Willow felt like she was soaring along on a hoverboard from "Back to the Future", which was pretty wild, and it was nice and fast, but Willow worried about the amount of energy she was burning, and how she was going to keep tracking Tara if she'd changed her course, and...

Well, there was a heck of a lot to worry about, really. Only what was she even supposed to do about it? Still, there had to be a way to find Tara. She wouldn't just vanish without leaving...

A trail. Willow narrowed her eyes. There was a trail of silvery energy visible to her mystic senses, like breadcrumbs leading her to her girl...and hang on, that story was kind of awkward these days and Tara better not get herself trapped as a rat somehow. Still, Tara had known she'd follow.

"Hang in there, Tare," she said, inaudible beneath the screaming wind. "I'm coming."

*****

Tara followed Raksi up the steps into the...she could only call it a throne room. She was still starkers, but she'd finally quit blushing constantly, and while the people here didn't like her being naked they didn't turn her away or refuse her service, let alone try to hurt her. They just made rude remarks.

"How's she coming?" Raksi asked from the throne. "I see you have only one."

"The others will be along in time," Raksi replied from Tara's side. Both of them were also naked, or as good as. People didn't react the same way to her as to Tara; for Raksi to be unclothed was perfectly natural to them. The Raksi next to her walked on up the steps, bent over the Raksi lounging in her throne, and kissed her soundly. The two women flowed into one another and became a single Raksi. Tara winced; the sense of great age was the same, but this Raksi felt far more powerful. Her ability didn't work like Buffy's on the magical level at all.

"Ah," the single Raksi said, and smiled. "Come along, new blood. I'll teach you everything you need to know." She crooked a finger, and Tara felt herself stride up the stairs. She didn't feel controlled; she just wanted to please this woman, and her legs responded almost without her thought. "First things first. Tell me what you've learned so far. Clearly not the Eastern Mastery technique; you're covered in bug bites. Then we'll see what else you can learn from me, little sorceress, and what you can provide me in return."

Tara began rattling off descriptions of all the magic she knew. If she could make Raksi happy, who knew what she might learn? The woman was a genius, after all. And it wasn't as if Tara had anything at all to lose.


	22. Ultimate Dim Thule

Consciousness struck like lightning, and she opened her eyes.

There were a few brief seconds of hazy digital static before the faces above her clarified. One was sallow with greying hair, stern, square, and solid. One was ruddy with long jet-black hair and an aquiline nose. The third...the third was blue and metallic, and her face seemed to gleam with an interior supernal light.

"I see you're awake," the owner of this last face said. "I am the counselor _Itinerant Analog Calculatrix_. Can you tell me your name?"

" _Beneficent Sanguine Messenger_." The words leapt into her mind, though she could not recall hearing them spoken.

"Curious name for a Soulsteel caste," the black-haired woman said with a tone of amusement. "Guess you can't all be grim avengers of the night."

"Where am I?" Messenger asked. Grim avenger of the night? Somehow that sounded familiar, but she remembered nothing.

"This is the city of Sporish, at the bottom of the Pole of Lightning. I know that may not mean much to you," Calculatrix allowed. "Most of your past lives took place on Earth, from which your soul was harvested."

"Your new incarnation is in Autochthonia," said the sallow man. "Try to remember. This is unlikely to be your first time here. It takes many heroic lifetimes to catalyze an Alchemical Exalt. I am Jayvin Trusk, and this is Laren Asuz. We were part of the team who animated you."

"I'm here to help you get oriented," Calculatrix explained. "Those of us who spent many of our recent incarnations on Earth sometimes have trouble remembering background information here, though we often don't consciously remember our recent lives, either. I was in the same position a few years ago."

Messenger struggled to her feet from the frame she'd been embedded in. "We're on a different dimensional plane from Earth, then?" The chamber was roughly spherical, its surface implanted with a variety of circuits and machinery. Halfway up the wall was a window into some sort of control room.

"Autochthonia has been connected to Gaia for several thousands of years," Trusk explained, "but travel has always been rare except for disembodied souls, which pass freely between realms. Your past incarnations were largely spent on Earth, but if you think carefully, I'm sure memories of this world will come to you."

"For instance, Calculatrix spent the last two years of her last Earthly life in Sunnydale, California as a teacher. That may not sound heroic," Asuz said, "but Sunnydale is built on a massive uncapped Malfean demesne. Her career of heroism there was brief, as mortals often find it, but distinguished, beginning with the defeat of Moloch the Corrupter. Before that, she--"

"The Hellmouth," Messenger said. "I remember that much."

"More will come back to you," Calculatrix told her, with a strange narrowing to her eyes. "You had a long...complicated life last time around. Just remember that the Exaltations measure heroism in terms of agency more than morality and it won't be all that confusing."

"You make it sound as if I was a bad person," Messenger said anxiously.

Asuz shrugged. "Try not to worry about it too much. It's a new life. Take the fresh start you've been given for what it is."

Messenger nodded, still uneasy. Her limbs felt heavy and not quite in their proper shape. She looked down and found her body sealed in form-fitting black metal armor. It should have been uncomfortable at best, but it didn't even chafe. "I'll do my best."

**Chapter 79--Ultimate Dim Thule**

Harmony's hands moved faster over the grid, rearranging gems. "I'm, like, really close, I swear!"

"You'd better be!" Santangelo fired off another bolt of flame at the encroaching wires. "We're about to be sliced and diced!" Two or three of the wires melted, but most remained intact.

"Got it!" The remaining stones dropped into their slots; the wires stopped advancing and, after two seconds, retracted into the walls. "That's room thirty-four," Harmony breathed. "And I've managed not to wreck my nails yet."

"Anyone seeing any theme at all to these rooms?" Gwen asked. "Because I'm really not."

"Twenty-one math problems," Shoat said, pretending to count on her fingers. "Seven principles of mystic practice. Five physical strength, but the third might have been meant to be solved some other way. One perception and quick reflexes."

"That's a lot of math," Harmony said, "but I kinda wonder if they're not, like, tailored to me. I get math now but I've still got some gaps in what I know, like stats."

"Six stats problems," Shoat agreed. "Four integral calculus, that you said was still new to you."

"What does any of this have to do with sacrifice?" Santangelo asked. "You said that was always the final challenge."

"How many of these little rooms have we got?" Gwen asked. "Maria and Shoat are managing okay for now, but you're the one who's figuring out most of this stuff, and you're basically down to nothing."

"I have this idea," Harmony said. "I worked out how to lend people energy last month but I haven't had much use for it. But if I could borrow...." She trailed off. "Still haven't worked out how to do it, but I could take from Shoat or Santangelo."

"Well, remember," Santangelo pointed out, sagging against the wall, "we're only better off than you cause we can regen down here. I've got less energy, and Shoat only has about the same."

Harmony rested her palm on the door actuator to the left, irising open a hatch. Santangelo took point, feeling carefully for magic in the air and searching for hidden tripwires or touch plates. "Nothing here," she said.

Shoat and Gwen moved in after her, but Harmony held position at the wall. "C'mon," Shoat urged.

Harm still didn't budge. She closed her eyes. "That looks...." She didn't finish that line either, but stepped forward, following Shoat with her eyes still closed. "Inverse," she mumbled, "converse, and contrapositive. Um...let's try inverse." She held out a hand to Shoat, who shrugged and took it. A skeletal unicorn flared above them in grey and purple. Black ripples cascaded back along the connection to Harmony, who shivered while Shoat seemed to wilt. "You okay?"

"I've been better," Shoat said wearily. "You feel better?" Harm nodded mutely. "Harm, are you sure this is the sort of thing you wanna go after?"

"I didn't steal it," Harmony pointed out. "What's bad about taking energy you're ready to give?"

Shoat frowned and shrugged. "Guess I see your point. Still looked ugly, though."

Harmony huffed. "I'm the one getting us in and out, you know? Let's get moving. I'm real hungry and kinda tired."

Gwen, Santangelo, and Shoat stared at each other for a moment before Shoat tugged on Harmony's hand. "Yeah," she said, "let's go."

*****

Faith was a roiling ball of rage at the door of the containment cell. Amy rubbed Faith's back gently with her telekinesis, not that it seemed to be doing any good. In fact, after a few moments Faith started twitching irritably and Amy stopped.

"I told you," Stephen said in a bored monotone. "I killed him because he was a demon. What other reason do I need?"

Faith snarled and smashed a fist into the door, which shook but didn't break. "He was one of the good guys, you dumbass!"

Stephen smirked casually back at her. "You think so? It's not like he's even really gone. Watch this." His body morphed and shifted, growing taller and broader, becoming a duplicate of Angel. "Wasn't entirely sure that would work. Had to drink just _before_ killed him."

"You're not him, asshole!" Faith yelled.

Stephen chuckled. "Nah, just his kid. He's a whole demon, I'm just half. Here, don't believe me? Watch this." He pointed to her with two fingers, then back into his own eyes.

Faith froze for a moment, staring into his eyes...then growled under her breath and began pounding on the door, harder and harder. "I'm gonna kill you!" she snarled. The plastic panel cracked, then the keypad as Faith struck it. The door popped open, allowing Stephen to lunge at Faith. crashing into her.

This was perhaps not the best of decisions. Faith began to pummel him mercilessly with blows to the gut, the head, the arms. Only the wildness of her swings allowed him to redirect some of them into the walls and floor, where they left massive dents in the sheetrock and holes in the tile. Then silver claws burst from his fingertips, and he laid into her in return, gashing open her arms.

Faith lunged to one side, aiming to evade his slashes, and Amy seized both of them telekinetically and hoisted them into the air. There. Nothing in reach, no way to exert force or move, though Faith clawed at the air and screamed curses.

Something went _crack_ inside Amy's head and Faith lurched forward. Shit, she was flying; Amy hadn't thought of that. Still, the telekinetic grip was slowing her. Amy hit the call button. "I've got a brawl up here! Need some help!"

Stephen opened his mouth. Instead of the cry of rage Amy expected, a swarm of wasps burst out and surrounded Faith, stinging furiously. "You little freak!" A moment later, she got close enough to grab him and slam him upward into the ceiling while the momentum exchange dropped her to the floor.

Stephen vanished--no, he'd become some sort of translucent jellyfish. His tentacles grabbed Faith by the neck and tried to pull him into her mouth. She seized him and tried to toss him away, but he didn't seem to have lost any strength in the change.

Amy yanked him away and sent him flying, then, in desperation, tried closing off Faith's carotid arteries. Faith spotted the ripples of white light and clamped her hands around her own throat, warding Amy off. Amy saw murder in her eyes. "Faith, please! We're girlfriends, right? I'm doing this because you're acting crazy! I swear I'd never hurt you!" The haze in Faith's eyes cleared, just a fraction, just for a moment, and she turned and launched herself at Stephen again.

Amy breathed a sigh of relief. But she still had to keep Faith from slaughtering this guy...or maybe being slaughtered by him. Could she use her telekinesis as a barrier? She focused, feeling a stab of pain in her forehead and a trickle of liquid from her nose. Spheres of light blossomed around Faith and Stephen alike. Now reverted to human form, Stephen was busy invoking some new power and was caught by the solidifying field, but Faith came flying free of it to crash into the second sphere.

Bruised, she stumbled to her feet, eyes fixing malignantly on Amy once more. But that was when Kate, Riley, and a pair of Fire-girls came crashing through the door. Kate caught Faith in an armlock, and flanked by the Terrestrials, Faith finally sagged and let the fight go out of her.

*****

Harmony rearranged the images on the screen. "Death and life with a guardian in between doesn't work. Threat leading to death doesn't work. Um...."

"Harm!" Gwen blasted the approaching specters again with just as little effect as before. "Get it right this time!"

"Oh! I'm a total dumbass! Life, then death, then the maw of oblivion!" Click, click, click. "I was thinking there wouldn't be anything to be afraid of after death, but--"

"Finish the damn puzzle!" Santangelo shouted. 

Harm ran through the rest of the thirty-symbol sequence real fast and hit enter, or the button that acted like enter anyway. The ghosts vanished, the doors opened wirh a clack, and everyone sagged to the floor.

"We're going back," Shoat said. "Plot us a route back out of here, Harm." She rubbed the gash on her face, smearing blood.

"I promise we're real close," Harmony insisted. "I swear, guys! Please!"

"I'll give you five more rooms," Gwen said. "I'm the token mortal here, so I figure I've got the right to set the limit on what I can handle, right?"

"I'll go with that if it's okay with Shoat," Santangelo grumbled.

Shoat sighed. "Five rooms or till someone else gets hurt, whichever comes first. But we'd better book it, Harm."

Harm dropped through the trapdoor in the floor. She wasn't losing this!

*****

Daniel Holtz was not a man much given to confusion.

He understood what he was, and why. He was the Dawn, a servant of God to bring light into the world and burn away the darkness.

He understood what his son Stephen was, too, and why. Stephen was the child of two vampires, half-demon himself, and it was no wonder that he carried unholy powers. But Daniel's power held no special harm toward him, so Stephen must be human enough to do right and have at least some chance at salvation.

But then, why did his protégé Justine and his own blood daughter Sarah carry the same unholy powers? What was _Itinerant Analog Calculatrix_? And why did he have such a bad feeling about her new friend, _Beneficent Sanguine Messenger_? All these questions left Holtz off his balance, and until he regained it, he dared not make a decisive move. On first gaining these powers, he had acted too hastily out of overconfidence. He was not the Almighty.

"I need to return to Earth," he said to Calculatrix. "I value your assistance, but my primary work is not here. I believe that the Architect misled me for her own purposes." On Earth he would be back in an environment he could partially understand.

"She's been known to do that," Calculatrix said with a frown. "She thinks like a Starmetal caste sometimes. I can return you to Earth. I have a bit of work there myself. Is the Wolfram & Hart tower acceptable?"

When last he had been there, it had been to free his daughter. Paying Lilah Morgan back would be a good use of his time, for now. "So long as we emerge out of sight," he said after some consideration.

"Can do," Calculatrix alleged. He hoped she was right.

*****

"So you just flipped out," Amy said.

"Yeah," Faith said flatly. "I remember. Seemed to make sense at the time. Kid killed Angel, tried to put me in his thrall."

"He's got thrall?" Kate said, alarmed.

"You bet," Faith insisted. "I'm five by five now, but for a while I was so pissed I couldn't help tryin' to kill him and everything else in my path."

"Doesn't exactly sound natural," Riley said with a grunt.

"In Creation I heard a lot of stuff about the Solars goin' nuts," Faith said uneasily, "an' maybe the others too. And Five Days' Darkness said the same thing, only we didn't much believe him. Nobody seems to know why."

"We don't have much choice but to release more Exaltations, if Five Days' Darkness is telling the truth about the apocalypse," Amy said, "so figuring out this whole crazy-going thing is gonna have to be next priority. Right?"

"Can't argue with that," Riley said, "but if they had thousands of years and the best anyone ever came up with was 'imprison the Solars', what chance have we got?"

Faith narrowed her eyes. "I didn't see a lot of Creation, but they don't exactly have their act together over there. Look, the Dragon-Blooded are all-round better at everything, not just fighting, and there are thousands of them, _and_ they can spread it around, even to normal people. But they're still livin' in the Bronze Age, 'cept for the leftovers. Sure, things have taken some hits, but I ain't convinced they're really trying. And 'fore that, the Solars got so smart they wouldn't listen to anyone else--even the other Exalted--an' there were only three hundred of 'em. We can do better. Hell, we can probably do better right now."

Amy grinned. "Got any suggestions, Faith?"

Faith blinked. "Who me? Hell no. I was about to ask you."

Amy exchanged an irritated look with Kate. "Did you hear anything about ways the Exalted might have boosted their intelligence even higher?" Kate asked.

"Terrestrial helpers," Faith started. "Eclipses learning other booster powers from not-Solars. Smart drugs--hey, I wonder if we can find mercury ants somewhere still?"

"I'll look into it," Amy said. "Go on."

"Shit, I don't remember," Faith said, eyeing Amy suspiciously. "There was something about this group mind project thing Willow was going on about. I'm not the one you wanna ask. Hell, where's Harm these days?"

*****

"Harmony," Shoat said as the Solar disarmed the incinerator with half a minute to spare, "that's your fifth room. Time to head back."

"Um, we got a problem with that," Harmony sighed. "We're lost."

"What the hell," Santangelo snarled. "What do you mean we're lost?"

"I mean I agreed to five rooms because I calculated we'd be there in three, give or take one. We ought to be there." Harmony sketched out a rough sphere in the fine coating of ash on the floor. "I've been aiming for the center the whole time, allowing for a detour around a trap here or there that I didn't see how to pass. This line is our course."

"Okay," Gwen asked reasonably, "how can we be lost?"

"I don't know," Harm said, throwing up her hands. "Unless...unless the rooms are moving around!"

"Jesus," Shoat murmured. "Okay, well, we still have to get out. We'll never make it to the center. Try and work out how the rooms are moving and we'll plot out a new course, but for the exit."

Harmony nodded uncomfortably. It really wasn't fair. Who'd designed this place, anyway?

She didn't _have_ to plot their next course for the exit. 

*****

Weeping Raiton poked the prototype, and it flinched slightly and grunted. "Adequate. Are we ready to begin mass production? The Neverborn grow impatient."

"As does the Viator," agreed the avatar of Ralacken. "But he accepts that we cannot rush deployment. Doing so would guarantee unacceptable losses."

"Losses will be total," Raiton argued. "This is inevitable. We need only make sure thry are total for all sides."

"The Viator disagrees," Ralacken snapped back. "The key point in his plan requires the destruction of Gaia before Autochthon's death. He has calculated that a single Neverborn will survive the annihilation of existence and be reborn as a Primordial, in the Wyld."

"Then we have a disagreement, but not a critical one," Raiton concluded. "We still must accelerate production."

"Exponential spread is accelerating now," Ralacken explained. "We are about to enter the main curve in the dataplot. You must trust us."

"There is no trust," Raiton said, "but your argument is compelling. We will wait."

*****

Messenger poked at a curious little knot of flesh that had appeared just above her armor. It was far enough around on her back that she couldn't see it clearly. She wanted to ask Calculatrix, but, well...it was embarrassing. The thing was probably just the equivalent of a pimple.

"Jump point calibrated," Calculatrix announced. "Is everyone ready? Good," she finished as everyone signaled. "Activating."

A brilliant point of green light appeared above the platform and rapidly expanded into a vortex. Holtz took point, naturally. After a moment, the glowing green marker signalling the way was clear rolled back through the portal. Sarah jumped through, then Justine.

Messenger emerged into a dusty room filled with boxes. "--like a basement level," Justine was saying, which seemed about right.

"Oi!" called out a familiar voice as Calculatrix emerged. "Did you catch 'im yet?" Who was that? Messenger was certain she knew him, but Sarah put a finger to Messenger's lips to keep her quiet as Calculatrix emerged and the portal closed. "You better not be him. I'm ready for that twit this time." But the pattern of his footsteps indicated he was sneaking away.

"Coward," Holtz muttered.

"That's William the Bloody, more commonly known as Spike these days. Sired by Drusilla, sired by Angelus," Justine said. "Let's go take him down."

Holtz narrowed his eyes. "Lilah Morgan first. If we are to use these powers effectively, we should first destroy the greater dangers. The lesser can wait, if we find no one under attack." He put his hand on her shoulder. "Never fear: we will destroy him. All in good time."

*****

"I've got a theory," Harmony said. She felt wrung out, but they were close. "The rooms are shifting around in and out of the three-dimensional space we can access. We can't actually get into other parts of the four-space, not by ourselves anyway, but they can come to us. Or the rooms can carry us there if they move while we're inside."

"We don't need a theory," Santangelo said, "we need a map. Or a course, at least."

Harmony sketched out the sphere again on the floor. "The rooms move forward in time like shifting bubbles in fizz. If we catch a moving bubble we can let it float us straight to the top and get out."

"Into the future?" Shoat asked.

"Our future where we're leaving," Harm tried.

"If you say so." Shoat began to pop her knuckles one by one. "What do we have to do for that?"

"The bubbles move when we set off traps," Santangelo said. "It's how I'd arrange it. Mess up and the maze changes. Not sure how to make it keep going to the top, though."

"We need a continuous error," Harmony said. "This room has a screen. Gwen, like, zap it when I give the word. The three of us will fight off the wall zombies. That should get us totally up to the top."

"You're sure you're going to do this?" Gwen asked. "For a while I thought you'd rather run us all into the ground to get that mantle."

Harm pouted. "I think we need it," she said slowly. "But I'm not going to kill us all to get it. If we can come back better prepared I will, but if this is the only chance we have, then I guess we have to let it go. I don't really wanna. I'd be the first Solar to ever get the Void Circle."

"Maybe that's for the best," Shoat said.

"Maybe." The word had to be dragged out of Harmony. "Anyway...Gwen, go!"

Gwen shocked the terminal, and all hell broke loose.

*****

"Hey!" Faith shouted. "Spike told me there were people down here! If you're just maintenance or somethin', come out an' quit hiding! If not, you may as well come out anyway cause I'm gonna have to kick your ass!"

Sarah was about to call out to her when she realized that Calculatrix was missing. Where'd she gone? Wait. If that was her sneaking up behind Faith, she was pretty good.

Calculatrix held out her hand, and a crystalline spike shot out and impaled Faith at the base of her skull. Faith jerked once and went limp.

"Did you kill her?" Sarah asked. Calculatrix shook her head and said nothing. A few moments passed. Finally Faith raised her head, and Calculatrix let the spike retract.

Faith's eyes were glassy. "Did I fall asleep?" she asked tonelessly.

"For a little while," Calculatrix told her. "Do you trust me?"

"With my life."

*****

"Are we moving?" Gwen called out. "I can't keep this up long!" Sparks rained from her hands onto the terminal, which juddered and sounded alarms.

Half-skeletal zombies poured out of the walls. Shoat had managed to control a few and was making them fight the others, and Santangelo's flame aura was holding them at bay from her. Harmony stood at the back, eyes closed, anima barrier fending off the occasional glancing blow. "We're moving," she said, but she was frowning as if something was wrong. "Hold it...hold it...okay, Gwen, stop! Hit three-eight-four!"

"It's not stabilized!" Gwen yelled back. "I can't touch any keys till they hold still!"

"It's ok," Harmony said. "We're still moving. Wait for it, then stop the room when you can."

"Better not take too long," Santangelo warned. "Running low here!"

"Got it!" Gwen called.

The zombies lurched away and fused into the walls again, vanishing from sight. "Room's slowing," Harmony reported. "I'm gonna get the door, but be ready for something funny."

She pressed the door in. It opened, and she gasped.

"What is it?" Gwen asked, pressing in for a look.

"Seriously awesome stuff!" Harmony said, and pulled herself inside.


	23. Twilight Kingdom

The central chamber of Silur's tomb glimmered faintly in the anima-light reflected off soulsteel and underworld jade. Shadows shifted and never-before disturbed fabrics rustled as Harmony climbed into the tomb and was followed by Shoat, Maria Santangelo, and finally Gwen Raiden. Here stands held rich clothing; there a suit of armor lay with a slender black blade atop it; over there stood a cauldron draped in cords of woven orichalcum.

And at the center of it all rested a huge black-crystal sarcophagus draped in smoke-gray cloth.

Harmony walked up to the sarcophagus. The crystal was opaque enough that she couldn't really see if there was anything inside, but she didn't expect there would be. She touched the cloth, feeling gauzy softness like silk, but light as a sheet of fabric softener. Without the slightly-soapy feel, of course. This was it. This was the Mantle of Soot, never before touched by any hand, unless Silur had risen as a ghost and left it here. Harmony picked it up with shaky hands, feeling like a snot-nosed little twerp for putting her grubby paws on it. It was beautiful.

"You know you can't be wearing that when we come back, unless it's night or we come back inside," Shoat said as Harmony wrapped it around herself.

Harmony rolled her eyes. "Save it for someone who didn't spend the last two years as a vampire. I know how to stay out of the sun." She was basically out of energy, but there were glimmering gems scattered through the chamber that she could feel were charged with magic. And at the head of the sarcophagus sat a shiny black hemisphere that pulsed softly in her mind's eye. She picked it up. "Dibs on the hearthstone. Let's get collecting and then work out how to get out of here."

She pulled the hood up over her hair, its filmy fabric essentially transparent. There had to be a mirror here somewhere. And...hearthstone amulet! Harmony squealed with delight.

This was the best tomb since that one with the Gem of Amara. And Harmony Kendall was now officially the most powerful necromancer alive! "Take that, Rosenberg," she murmured. Though, really, she did kinda hope Willow was okay.

Kinda.

**Chapter 80--Twilight Kingdom**

It was _freezing_ out here!

Willow didn't know how Tara had managed to travel so fast, but she clearly wasn't hanging around in this frozen tundra wasteland overnight. Chill winds cut through Willow's outfit despite her attempt to cover up in a coat before leaving. Why had Tara even headed up this far north? To keep anyone from trailing after her? That wasn't like her. At least summer was just ending, instead of Willow having to track through here in the dead of winter.

 _If you're going to rest, it's shelter-making time. Snow cave?_ That would be Salina. She hadn't manifested as a distinct personality in a while, which Willow had taken as a good sign. On the other hand, Willow _had_ spent that time concerned with her looks. Maybe her past life had gone quiet out of disgust. 

_Ice is easier,_ she pointed out, and began creating some with bolts of black lightning.

 _Watch your motonic levels,_ Salina warned. But it only took a couple of strikes to make a low, two-part dome. Still, she'd been flying for hours and--

Howls rose on the winds. Of course they did. Something was hunting--a fur-clad human form rose suddenly in front of her--not hunting; she'd been found. The howls must be to summon the pack. _Was_ it a human? The blue-white fur wasn't clothing, it was the being's pelt, and the creature had yellow eyes and a mouth full of fangs. _Demon_ , said five years helping Buffy, but she'd seen stranger human creatures here. _Salina? Do you--?_ Salina didn't know anything about it.

There was one other source of information she might try, but the last thing Willow wanted was to open her mind further to the Neverborn. For one thing, they might look back into hers.

The huge figure prodded at Willow's withered frame...and sighed. It howled out something incomprehensible even as others of its kind approached, then held its nose and covered its mouth in an unmistakable gesture. _Bad meat._ And it turned away, leaving Willow somehow simultaneously relieved and outraged at being dismissed that way.

She drew herself up and channeled energy through her aura, sending a torrent of burnt-black symbols across her skin and through the air around her. "I am the Scholar Hanged from the Tree of Life," she intoned, "and you will aid me!"

The creatures stopped and stared at her, then shrugged and turned away. They didn't understand her! Darn it! Wait. The trip here had somehow converted her primary language from English to something called "Riverspeak". But Willow spoke a lot more than English. She tried again in Spanish and was ignored. Then Latin. The furry things stopped and stared at her.

The one who had given her the stinkface gesture frowned at her, pointed to her, and responded in...whatever her Latin had translated to...with "Scholar?" Or maybe "Savant?" was a better translation. It pointed at itself. "Green Aurora." Back to her. "Rotten meat."

Ugh. "I swear I'm not actually dead, but no, I'm probably not good to eat. Are you human? Or maybe yeti or something?"

The creature waved around at its fellows. "Human." At her. "Not human."

"No, really I--"

At the creatures again. "From Rajtul." Or maybe it was one word: "Varajtul." The...Varajtul beckoned. "Come."

*****

"I think I've got it," Amy said, her tone wavering. "It's like this state of...distracted ennui. Trouble is testing it out."

"I could always just tell you that Spike is bad news," Robin deadpanned, "but you got upset last time I did that."

"We need someone with more controllable, consciously-activated mind control," Sam said, her lips twisted slightly. "Guess we could ask Lilah. Who knows what she'd set us to doing before we figured out how to override her consistently."

Amy rose from the table. "Not an Infernal. Too many restrictions, too much backflow into our own actions, at least with the stuff we know about so far."

Kate looked as if she was about to say something, but a "Woot woot!" rang out from the next room, and Harmony strolled into the office wearing a gauzy gray hooded cloak. "Iiii got it!"

Everyone who wasn't standing already leapt up. "Five Days' Darkness said it was just a legend," Riley blurted out.

"Five Days' Darkness underestimated your resident Twilight," Harmony rang out, and giggled. "The Mantle of Soot is totes real!" She took off the robe, spread it out on the table, and began divesting herself of a massive load of jewelry and mismatched bits and pieces of armor. "We...hit...the jack...pot," she added in singsong.

"Looks like no one ever successfully broke into the Underworld reflection of Silur's tomb," Gwen Raiden agreed. "I can't say I'm surprised. Hard enough getting there, and then you have to let your resolve to get in be worn down till you give up, only without actually dying."

A translucent figure sidled into the office between Shoat and Santangelo, lugging a huge kettle filled with more baubles and assorted gizmos. Shoat said, "It looks as if the Sidereals crammed everything magical they could into Silur's crypt and made it as impregnable as possible. But they did leave an in...for some reason."

"There's always an in," Amy explained. "Sometimes it's better to specify what that is, just like with a curse."

"Well, it's still going to take a dozen lifetimes to figure it all out," Santangelo grumbled. "Maybe not for you guys, at least."

"Did you seriously put on all that stuff without finding out what it did first?" Sam said. "How did you know it wasn't a trap?"

Harmony squinted at her. "You can't see that it all matches? I wouldn't wear non-matching jewelry!"

"Maybe you shouldn't act like it's all for you," Sam suggested. "We could all use some of that... _after it's been properly tested._ "

"Well, I think it looks good on me, whatever it does," Harmony started. 

"We'll get on with studying it shortly," Kate said, cutting off the discussion. "You came in on a different problem. Harmony...would you call yourself a people person?"

Harm stood there for a moment with her mouth open before re-adjusting. "Well, like, duh. All I've ever had to do to get what I wanted from most people is let them see some T or A--"

"Confirmed," Petersen said from the sidelines with a wink.

"Ew," Harmony said, blushing, but Amy suspected Petersen would get there eventually if she made the effort. "An-yway, for people who don't go for that, I picked up the rest from my dad or the Cordettes."

Kate nodded. "Harm, I'm reasonably sure I saw you using some...ah, social-fu on people at the mall, but ever since then you've seemed fixed on intellectual things. I don't blame you--we all know what it's like, only more so for you. Thing is, we need someone to practice defending against mind control with, someone who won't abuse it. You want to step up?"

Harmony stood there in shock again for another couple of seconds. "Um...yeah, sure, I'll do that. I can do mind control?"

"With a little practice, yeah. You're actually closest," Amy pointed out, "except maybe me, and it's liable to do weird stuff to _my_ head if I learn the wrong bits."

"Or mine," Robin said sheepishly. "I started this mess. Sorry to drag you into it."

"No, I'm good," Harmony said, chipper as always. "Can I go try and get cataloguing on this stuff first? I could use a new ensemble."

"Sure," Amy said. After Harm bounced out, she turned to Kate. "Seems like we're putting a lot on her."

"We are," Petersen put in. "Madison, this is based on a training plan for...'unconventional Exalted' we came up with with Five-DD. Kendall's obviously out of the 'breakable' stage and ready to get pushed out of her comfort zone. Exalts can't rest on their asses, Solars especially."

"So we're gearing up to make Harmony all she can be," Kate finished. "No point letting her settle into a rut like Faith."

"Where _is_ Faith?" Amy wondered.

"Who knows?" was Riley's answer, and no one else had anything to add.

*****

Things...or people...or whatever...like these Varajtul were supposed to live in caves, or tents, or some little ramshackle village. Not in a city made of shining stone.

It wasn't even a _ruined_ city, not really. Oh, there were bare foundations stripped of their walls and even some collapsed buildings that had been left to crumble. But the areas that were in use were kept in good repair. There was no sign of a latrine area or chamberpots, so they might even have sewers. Heck, they might have running water--the Romans had. Didn't seem likely up here on the tundra, but who knew? This world had come a long way down. This city looked on par with Gem--maybe better off in some ways.

On the other hand, the people wore cords of human ears and noses and toes around their necks. And their first reaction to seeing mummy-Willow had been "bad meat". Suddenly Willow was glad she didn't always look like her living Solar self. It didn't make them irredeemable--right now, Buffy and Sulumor were signing treaties for trade and mutual defense as Buffy tried to wean the Dune People off the long pork--but it sure made them horrifying.

Peace with the Dune People had taken at least three Exalts to even get started--Buffy on one side, Sulumor on the other, and Anya pulling strings on the Loom of Fate. With the Varajtul it might be just Willow. Still, she ought to try.

"Here," said Green Aurora. "You look for Bishop, I think. Bishop leads other not-dead."

Willow doubted she meant a mutant from the future or an android. Too bad, really. "What does the Bishop teach?"

"Here." Aurora led Willow into the building she'd indicated. It seemed to be a temple of some sort, with stone benches for pews and an altar bathed in some sort of blue firelight. Natural gas? Or magic? It looked more like the latter. "Bishop say, Varajtul are true spirits, deserve that false humans serve us in life and death. False humans wish die, pull false Creation down, leave only the True Cities."

"True Cities?"

"Ravenous, City of Hunger. Cadaverous, City of Death. Gateway opens at night, sinks down into True Empire. Empire of Hunger." Aurora seemed to be trying to convey more with hand motions, but Willow was having trouble following. A Shadowland?

"Can you tell me how to get there?" She could travel faster through the Labyrinth. Somehow Tara had gotten way, way ahead of her.

Green Aurora shrugged. "I find you a guide. You are not-dead, but you are not-human." Hmph. Well, it was a start.

Wait. No. She didn't have to settle for a weak start like this. She was Exalted; she was a Midnight. The blue-furred, eight-foot-tall woman loomed over her, but Willow stepped closer until she flinched. "Both of us are human. We look different, but that's not important. I'll prove it."

Willow grabbed her by the arm and sank her fangs in deep. The urge to drain her life as energy was powerful, but Willow ignored it and stole the woman's image instead. When she pulled away, she could look Green Aurora in the eye. That cleared up her own doubts, too. "Green Aurora, I want you to come with me. Or you can stay, and I can eat _you_."

The Varajtul shuddered visibly, and her fur stood on end. "If I must."

*****

Harmony stuck out her tongue at Five Days' Darkness. The god groaned and put a hand over his eyes. "Tell me it isn't so."

"I cannot tell a lie: I found the Mantle in Silur's tomb." She put her tongue back out, then changed her mind and stuffed another cookie in her mouth. She was so totally hungry after that trip!

"Do you even know what those artifacts do?" It was bad enough that he was a liar, but he was a killjoy too!

Harmony put her chin up. "No. But I know they go together. They match, can't you see it? This is Silur's own personal ensemble. Or somebody she knew, anyway."

Five coughed and shook his head. "And how would you know such a thing?"

"What is the matter with you? Look at the color scheme. Look at this curlicue motif. If it's not hers, or someone close to her, why'd it get buried with her?" Harmony looked down to see that she'd finished off the cookies. Yipes! She was going to ruin her figure if she wasn't careful.

Five bent down to study them more closely. Or maybe just to be a perv and look down her shirt. "I see, and I apologize. You're doubtless right, though I don't remember Silur wearing these. It has been several thousand years, after all. Or perhaps these have been altered by the grave goods transformation."

Harmony snickered. "It's okay to admit you forgot. Hey, is that a pocket full of sunshine, or are you just happy to see me?"

Five straightened up so fast he nearly banged his head on a cabinet. "Excuse me?"

"Come on now, Five. You may be a spirit, but I can see you're a man where it counts." Oh, yeah, she had him off balance now. She wasn't even certain why she was doing it, except that it was fun to make him squirm. Also she was genuinely kind of horny now. At least the cookies had filled her belly. Now she needed something else filled.

Five glared an offended glare. "You may be an attractive young woman, Harmony, but--"

"But what?" She wasn't drunk--why wasn't she drunk, now that she thought of it?--and she didn't feel sick. Why was she acting like this? She peeled off her top. "If I'm so attractive, why don't you come over here and have some fun with me?"

"I can't see how this is appropriate, Harmony--"

"Oh for pete's sake, Five," she said, getting up and sidling over to him. "It's appropriate because we want it. I know I want it, and I can see you want it. Why fight it? Or are you afraid of a strong independent woman like little old me?" She kissed him on the mouth, hard, then pulled his face down to her chest by the ears. 

That got his attention. Now to find some wine....

Was she usually this pushy? Ah, who cared?

*****

Okay, so here was the cave...metaphorically speaking. Green Aurora pointed up the mountain. "Here is the place of sacrifice. Open to Creation place. Open to Death place. This world just a...stop between them, Bishop say. Not real place of its own."

So...a Wyld zone and a Shadowland both? That was supposed to be really uncommon, but Willow was hundreds of miles away from the other she knew of, and if anything would do it, a thousand years of painful sacrifice sounded effective. "How do we enter the Underworld from here?" She'd lose Tara's trail from there, but she could always cast a locator spell. Willow was never far from something of Tara's.

"Wait," Aurora said. "Leave at night."

That was less than convenient, but...it wasn't as if she was really losing time. She'd be gaining. "All right," she said crankily. "Tell me about yourself. It's sharing time."

*****

"This can't really be First Age technology," Tara said cautiously. "Weren't there things that only Solars could do?"

For an instant, Raksi's expression was transformed by pure malevolence, and Tara shrank back, but then the madness cleared away, and Raksi just nodded. "It's a good aesthetic facsimile, but much of it is copied from the Shogunate era, with some improvements I invented."

"Did you come up with the cuisine, too?" They were seated at a table in a quiet park, eating food from one of a cluster of open-air restaurants.

Raksi smiled with syrupy sweetness. "I did. You're making progress, by the way."

Tara looked down at herself. Did she mean their nakedness? She was acutely aware of that, but she no longer felt like panicking, and it was suited to the damp heat--not that Tara needed to worry about that any more. Or did she mean that Tara was making magical progress? So far all Raksi had taught her was another environmental mastery technique. Bugs no longer bit or stung--or if they did, she didn't notice--nor did the plants poison or even scrape her. "What do you mean?"

"You haven't asked about your friends today. You trust them, and yourself, to be apart. I suppose you expect them to look for you, but even knowing they can't come here without my leave, you don't expect them to come to harm."

Tara took a bite while she thought that over. The meat was crisp, then tender underneath. She couldn't make out what it was from, though it fortunately didn't resemble pork. "I guess after a while we started thinking of this as a death world. It doesn't have the modern conveniences we're used to, and it's filled with monsters and hostile magic. Except, people lived without all those things for centuries, and there were certainly plenty of monsters in Sunnydale, at least. My friends know how to take care of themselves. And I guess I do too."

"Good, good. Tara, this is the gesture that vines make as they climb." She made a sort of clasping motion with her hands. "I want you to practice it over the next few days. It will let you trap your enemies harmlessly."

Tara made the gesture, but as she expected, nothing happened just yet. Spells took more practice than that, though Raksi had said she was a natural.

"Work on your form. Now...you told me that a _raksha_ tried to teach you to speak with animals?" Raksi gave that notion a smirk.

"Dawn did, yes. She made it happen in the Wyld, but it didn't carry over. She was disappointed."

"All right," Raksi said indulgently. "We'll try again."

"I hadn't thought you'd really just start teaching me like this," Tara said. "Everyone says--"

"Yes, they do," Raksi said, and shook her head. "If I were you, I wouldn't let on to your friends all the things you learn from me...or to anyone, really. I have an unwholesome reputation. Maybe it's best if you tell them I refused to teach you anything till you ate a baby, and whatever you managed to learn here you got for yourself while trying to escape."

After a moment, Tara nodded. There were things you just didn't talk about.

*****

Amy was driving back from the hospital after her latest run through the critical-care ward, pretty much drained. She'd bought a car reluctantly due to the bad traffic here, but the sickly glow after she burned so much energy sometimes made people ill, which was the opposite of what she was trying to accomplish. A car gave her a little privacy.

Hang on. There went two vampires into the alley, "escorting" a struggling young woman. Nobody much was paying attention; this wasn't exactly a good part of town. She'd come this way to avoid the traffic. With a reluctant sigh she turned into the alley herself. She didn't even have to get out. The startled vampires were still turning toward the car when she manifested two stakes from the air and drove them into their hearts.

Except then the girl gasped and stared at her through the window, putting her hand to her face. Amy sighed and rolled the window down. "Sorry, I came to help! I know this isn't good for you to look at!"

The girl shook her head and turned away, pointing at the sky, wide-eyed. She must have seen the reflection? Amy stuck her head out the window and looked up.

The nearly-full moon shone alone in a starless sky. No, not starless--but the stars had turned a dull red. Amy watched as they grew larger, became streaks, and hurtled down from the sky to pelt the city in a rain of fire. "What the hell?"

Harmony. Harmony had cast some idiotic super-spell. That had to be what was happening. Or maybe it was just that a Solar had learned this Void Circle crap Harm kept talking about. But it had to be her. Amy just knew it.

*****

Harmony nearly fell on her back as Five suddenly pushed himself up with all four arms. "Hey! A little warning would be--"

"Get dressed," he said simply. "Visitors will be here shortly." After some hesitation, he added, "I'm sorry."

"Hey now," Harmony said, pushing him back down--or trying to, since he was stronger than she expected. "I'm so not done here!"

The door burst open. "Everyone get--Harmony, what?--Never mind, get dressed!" Kate spun on her heel and ran back out. Five rolled Harmony off him in spite of her best efforts.

"What's going on?" Harmony snapped. "We're not finished here!"

Five fixed her eyes for a moment, and the strange sensation that something was wrong with her returned. "Calibration," was all he said.

Ok, whatevs. Harmony went to the mini-fridge while he got dressed and pulled out a beer and a box of chocolates.

*****

"What did you call it again?" Amy asked as they all stood on the roof. Even Harmony, who was in a bathrobe and drinking a beer.

"Calibration," Five said. "I was god of Calibration. There hasn't been one since Creation died. But this," he indicated the starless sky and flaming rain, "this is unquestionably Calibration. A rather severe manifestation of it, but I can...feel it, for lack of a better term. This was my purview."

The moon, too, had flickered red and gone out like a guttering candle. Lorne shook himself after a few moments, said, "I need a drink too," and went back inside. Shoat scowled openly at the spot where the moon had been.

"Is it related to what you and Harmony were doing?" Kate asked circumspectly.

Five thought that over. "I hope not, but it's possible. It's not as though I've had sex with a Solar in the millennia between then and now. And though it seems a small thing...well, sometimes for Celestial Exalts, the Earth really does move. Why not the heavens?"

Amy tried not to stare. Five had been screwing _Harmony_? The world really was going all topsy-turvy.

"Anybody want a beer?" Harmony asked. "Where's Faith? I bet she'd like to get drunk with me." Amy squinted at her. Surely she wasn't suggesting what it sounded like she was suggesting. "Five, you wanna come back to bed?"

"All things considered, I think that might be unwise," Five Days' Darkness pointed out.

Harmony sighed. "Anybody?" Buffybot raised her hand. "What the heck," Harm said agreeably. "Can't hurt to try."

"Are you hearing what I'm hearing?" Sam asked after Harmony left. "She's acting extremely weird."

"Well," Amy said, "either it's the weather, or...maybe it's like with Faith. Harmony's got all the conviction of a weathervane, but she's actually pretty straightlaced. She never drinks much, watches her weight, and keeps her shopping trips under budget."

"She wasn't a virgin when we met," Spike said, "but she has standards. Daft standards, but there you go. Hey...goin' below, okay? I've seen enough flaming rain for one night an' not enough naked blondes."

Kate shook her head as he walked off. "Apocalyptic weather: kind of a turn-off for most people."

"Still a vampire!" Spike shouted from the stairwell.

Amy shrugged.

*****

The Empire of Hunger was vast.

The ghosts, it seemed, largely stayed out of the Wyld-tainted Shadowland near the mountain. Perhaps the government didn't let them come there. Whatever the reason, Willow and Green Aurora were no more than a mile from the mountain when they came across a metal road that moaned when they walked on it. Willow thought about walking along the edge, but before long the road was so thronged with ghost slaves and the occasional white-furred Varajtul master that it made no difference where they walked; the road moaned constantly.

The windblade stayed tucked away on her belt buckle, so the going was slower. They'd followed the road for maybe an hour when they were abruptly met by a patrol of _black_ -furred ghosts on some sort of car. It looked steam-powered, but considering it was entirely ghostly it was possible that it ran purely on ghost magic. However that worked. "Here! You two! What authorization you got to be down here, bluefurs?" As they hopped down, Willow saw some sort of badges tied across their chests. Police? Seriously?

Now that she thought about it, though, there could easily be ghosts here from before the Usurpation, or whatever cataclysm had turned these people into furry cannibals. The car shouldn't be a surprise. A stronger social order shouldn't be a surprise. And either these ghosts might object to the cannibalism, if they came from before it...or they might have instigated it somehow.

Willow stood up straight. Down here her magic felt a lot less constrained. She flared her aura and banished the disguise. "This is my authorization! I am the Scholar Hanged from the Tree of Life. I walk where I please in the Underworld and you would do better to aid than impede me. So, um, I need to borrow that car."

The black-furred Varajtul stared at her for a few moments. One actually went slack-jawed. "Very well, great Scholar." Willow caught a sarcastic undertone deep in his words, though. But when he opened the car door for her, she motioned Green Aurora inside. The car shook itself to life and turned about. As long as they were headed into the Labyrinth, Willow didn't care if they thought they were in charge. They had her right where she wanted them.

*****

"What does it really mean?" Tara asked. "If animals can understand me, are they all sentient? Or is it something my magics are doing to them temporarily?" The birds twittered about the weather and politely ignored her.

"You know," Raksi said, "I don't know that anyone ever made a systematic attempt to answer that question. People tended to take philosophical stances on the matter and cling to them without looking for evidence. Me, I think it's mostly the latter. They're piggybacking on your Exaltation. For the moment they can think, but it isn't really their own self, so they don't mind losing it." She dropped from the tree, wings folding, and landed on the ground in human form, naked as always. "If you don't mind, I have needs I should go take care of. You stay here and contemplate your growing bond with nature. Soon you'll learn to resist cold and storms and landslides too."

"You d-don't need any help from m-me, I guess," Tara said reticently. Raksi was much sweeter than the stories claimed. She always wanted to help Raksi, but the ancient Lunar rarely needed anything she could give.

Raksi turned and put her hands on her hips. "Well, in principle you could. You're a Lunar, after all. But let's face it, as matters stand you're just not properly equipped."

Tara tried not to go crimson. Raksi was just achingly beautiful and incredibly sexy. "What would I need to do?"

"Not do," Raksi said with a wink. "Be. But really now, you don't want any part of this, dear sweet little nature girl. You should stay here and, I don't know...meditate or something."

"No, really," Tara said, hopping down from the branch. "I'm game."

Raksi's neatly filed teeth came into view. "Whatever you say."


	24. Fully Armed and Operational

Thunder sounded over the Eastern horizon, and Alexander Harris peered in that direction, scanning the sea and the cloudless sky. It could be a storm, even so, but he doubted it. The Skullstone fleet lay West of them, but if he were in the Silver Prince's place he'd be planning surprises for Luthe, and--

A black fleck appeared in the sky, followed by a whistling aound that built rapidly to a shriek. "Take cover!" he had time to yell. Then the shell hurtled down at the deck, almost faster than the eye could follow.

Not faster than Wavecleaver. The Dread Pirate Roberts had about half a second to worry about the explosion before the shell crashed onto the deck in two pieces, detonator sliced cleanly in two. Firedust spewed out in all directions, but failed to ignite. "That was close," he admitted to the gathered sailors and assorted delegates. But where'd it come from?

Whistles rose over the water again, hundreds of them, building to a howl as black specks blossomed in the Eastern sky. "Holy bombardment, Batman!" This time he bellowed it at the top of his lungs. "TAKE COVER!!!"

It had to be the Coral Archipelago. But Coral didn't have this kind of weapons, or the ships to fire them from. Coral's navy was huge, and utterly outdated.

Who was he kidding? They'd gotten help from a Deathknight, or a Green Sun Prince, or a Solar, or some rogue Dragon-Blooded circle...or whoever or whatever. What did it matter? They had their edge now.

A third volley began to rise as the second plummeted toward the city. At least most everyone was diving for cover as ordered.

Alexander splashed down into the sea. The patrols were out fighting Skullstone ships, as usual, but Luthe should be able to hold its own against firedust shells, and it was time he showed these medieval screwheads what it meant to have an enemy Solar on deck. It'd only take a little--

A mouth full of fangs rose out of the depths, attached to a creature like an immense worm, as long as a ship and big enough around to swallow him whole.

Which it promptly did.

**Chapter 81--Fully Armed and Operational**

Cynis Megara was thrown to the deck by the rolling explosions, but she managed to make the Victory Over Primordials mudra all the same. For an instant it suddenly occured to her to worry that Admiral Xander might be banished along with the Infernal worm, but a moment after it vanished his head broke the surface, and he gave her the thumbs-up gesture that he'd said was a compliment. Then he caught the dorsal fin of a siaka as it hurtled by and was carried off by it, presumably toward the enemy.

An Impervious Sphere of Water swelled up over the deck, and Megara slithered inside it on her belly before getting to her feet. Several more popped up here and there. Mnemon! By the Dragons, she was standing next to Mnemon! "My lady," she murmured hoarsely.

Mnemon ignored her. "All hands proceed to the Water Fleet! Make best speed toward the enemy, then engage as soon as you're in range! Send targeting information back to Luthe and House Gavrane!" The Anathema Buffy Summers--in spite of everything, it was hard not to think of the quasi-akuma as Anathema--whispered something in Mnemon's ear. "Of course, Despot," Mnemon said, scanning the horizon. Then she glanced briefly at Megara. "Good work," she said, glancing significantly in the direction of the foe. "Proceed to the rear and be on the lookout for a second fleet."

Megara nodded, but as she turned Buffy hacked up a copy of herself, and Megara was unable not to stare. "Are you still sure you're ready for this?" Buffy said to her double, eyes shifting nervously. 

"We're the Slayer," the duplicate said unhelpfully, but Buffy nodded as if that were an answer. 

Buffy lifted her left hand, palm up, and Megara struggled not to let her jaw drop as the double's shadow writhed and contorted. Then the copy followed suit, twisting and falling to all fours. In moments she had the body of a radeken, with cat paws, vulture wings, and a dragon's head. With a roar, the demon bounded into the sky and flapped its way off toward the source of the bombardment. 

Megara let out a little "Eep!" and scurried to her place. That demon hadn't been summoned; she'd made it out of herself! Alexander might be Anathema, but at least he didn't make her feel like a terrified mortal.

*****

"I am still human, aren't I?" Buffy asked.

Mnemon blinked at her. "Clearly," she said. The Anathema wasn't even showing her blasphemous caste marking yet, let alone signs of transformation. So why would she ask--? "You're not really asking about your humanity. You speak in regard to your moral worth." That left the Slayer speechless. "You are a blasphemy to the Immaculate Philosophy, Despot. But then, murder and theft are also blasphemous, and yet the Order does not balk at death or confiscation of goods. You act as you must to protect the world. I find no great fault in you. Though I must warn you, I've been told I'm not the best person to ask about morals."

"I just hacked a piece out of my soul and turned it into a demon," Buffy protested. "That's--"

"What you find necessary to defeat the allies of Skullstone," Mnemon said with utter calm. "There are far more terrible things I could do--such as annihilate a city, as you recall. This demon is under your near-absolute control, is it not? Call it unholy if you like. Even the unholy is sometimes sanctified by great need. And in any case, who is harmed by your action? Only the enemies of Creation."

Buffy nodded. "I don't guess I trust my own judgement right now. I...I'm relying on a magic oath to replace my conscience and I don't feel safe telling my other friends that yet. They've had to stage one intervention already."

Mnemon gestured to a pair of dragonlords that it was time to launch; they saluted and snapped into action. "Such oaths are often holy, Buffy. The Order would surely regard yours as unholy, as I presume they draw on Yozi power, but I prefer to judge them by their consequences. I submit that you are doing well. Now, I would be honored if you would join me and the Water Fleet."

"They won't like me," Buffy pointed out, but she turned and strode toward the flagship.

"Believe it or not, that rests on your actions. Many will resist working with you, but you may see from Cynis Megara's example that they can be won over." She slid her arm into Buffy's. "Here. This will help."

Naturally, the ship captains stared. Mnemon chose to tweak them further. She leaned down and kissed Buffy on the cheek. "You're one hell of a troll, Mnemon," the Despot giggled as the captains turned away, offended.

"Yes," Mnemon agreed.

*****

The waters writhed with infernal worms. Megara shook her head. Had so many been summoned by the Coral fleet? Mortals usually had the sense to fear even First Circle demons, and any sorcerers Coral might have employed were unlikely to summon and bind an entire army of them.

On the horizon. There. A patch of fog that pwrithed and went untouched by the sun. That could be a deathly manifestation, true, but it could as easily be eristrufa. Which, along with the worms, strongly suggested Lintha pirates. The Lintha were supposed to be at odds with Skullstone, true--but what if they were not?

The fog was far away. Striking into it would be difficult, but not impossible. Megara signaled a messenger and relayed the target position back to Aramida and to Queen Winifred.

A few moments later, a large winged form descended from Luthe's highest tower. The huge silver-flecked gull landed in front of Megara and cocked its head. It stretched one wing out in the direction of the cloud, then pecked violently at the deck before launching itself into the air again and soaring off toward the mist. It took another moment for her to realize: Fred had informed her that she'd fixed Luthe's weapons on the fog's position. Now she was going to investigate. Personally. 

*****

Alexander bellowed out his war cry, "The Dread Pirate Roberts is here for your souls!" as he shot from the water astride the gigantic shark. He knew these things as "megs"; the locals called them siaka (so that was what that was!). Why he shouted the catch phrase he couldn't be sure; none of his crew was around to hear. Like Jack Nicholson's Joker, he just liked the sound of it. The siaka gulped down a pair of enemy sailors as he dropped onto the deck.

"I came here to kick ass and chew bubblegum," he declared, "and evidently you folks haven't even invented bubblegum yet. Too bad for you." The sailors rushed him. Not smart. Xander had spent five hard years on the Hellmouth learning to fight vampires and demons with no superpowers. Now he was Superman, and he'd already had his boxing lessons.

Admiral Alexander brushed aside three cutlasses with one swing of Wavecleaver, backhanding a guy coming up behind him, then slashed forward to cut a throat or two. He wasn't a big fan of killing humans, he really wasn't, but if you came at him with a sword or Sith lightning, he couldn't see how that was much different from coming at him with fangs bared.

No Sith lightning so far. Just a bunch of guys-- Ah. Flamepiece. He wasn't at all sure how to block that. Aaand his blade released a golden glow that screened him from the wave of fire. One kick and the little flamethrower went flying into the sea.

This was what it was like being Buffy. No, this was what it _had been like_. In another couple of years...well, he supposedly wouldn't get all the weird body alteration stuff. But what would he have in its place, then? Something fantastic, for sure.

Oh-oh. Essence fire. Friendly fire wasn't, especially when there was every chance some of the gunners might decide they should be shooting at the Anathema after all. Alexander hit the deck as energy shot over his head and splintered the mast. "Killstealers!" he yelled. Not that he was complaining or anything.

"What're you complaining about?" asked a voice beside him.

"Dawn? Dawnster, you're a lot less powerful out here. Why're you tagging along?" They'd left the major Wyld zones behind days ago.

"I'll be fine," Dawn insisted, and winked at the rigging, which caught fire.

"Dawn...we're kinda aboard this ship."

"I know. We're in the water, right?" She waved her arms around.

"That is not how shipboard fires work!" They could always dive into the water, he guessed, but that hadn't been his plan at all. "Dawn, this is a military operation. If you can't follow directions, you'll have to leave."

Dawn made a sulky face. This was gonna suck.

*****

Buffy stood next to Mnemon and addressed the soldiers. "I don't expect you to love me," she said. "I don't expect you to follow my orders, or even to save my butt if I get in trouble. All I ask is that you let me fight beside you and hurt your enemies. I don't serve the demons, or the Deathlords, or the Fair Folk. I serve humanity. I protect humanity. It's what I was trained to do. Give me a chance to prove myself to you. Judge me by my actions. Let me help you save the world."

The assembled navy was eerily silent for a few moments. Finally Aramida quickly slapped an open palm to her center chest, followed by two other admirals out of five. The remaining soldiers followed their respective officers' examples. Not one of the Order members made a move, save for some who turned and left. Buffy looked to Mnemon, who explained, "That was a gesture of respect to a civilian. Even a House head would receive no more, unless she were an officer. You don't salute civilians." Mnemon made a fist-to-chest gesture, which all the admirals returned, stiffly in the case of the three who'd dissed Buffy and who then turned away.

"Three out of six," Buffy said, turning her head to watch the approaching Coral fleet. "Could be worse."

"In seven centuries, the Realm military has _never_ publicly worked with any Anathema," Mnemon said softly. "Four instances of military necessity have been covered up, and in two of those key officers rebelled and were executed as traitors to Creation. I assure you, you're doing very well."

"I'm guessing that has something to do with your endorsement?" They'd be within firing range soon.

"A great deal of it, no question. But even I could not easily order them to follow a fool or a monster." Mnemon turned to stare out over the ocean. "Go do something heroic and terrifying."

Buffy burst into sudden laughter. "What?"

"Go on. I can't very well put you into my command structure. Besides, individual heroism is what the Anathema _do_. Go prove its validity in spite of the _Thousand Correct Actions_." Mnemon lifted an eyebrow and stared at her until she began laughing again. "Prove that Immaculate dogma is, at best, a partial truth?"

"Okay," Buffy said. "I get it. Something spectacular. Too bad demon-me isn't back yet. I didn't realize she'd begin all tapped out." She'd still have to burn a lot of energy to do something like grow into a giant.

Buffy flexed her arms, closed her eyes, and breathed in deep. Her body twisted, her muscles swelled, filling out her carefully-made stretchy outfit. Green tarnish spread over her body, then flaked off to leave shining brass. She heard a faint hiss as many of the nearby Terrestrials took sharp breaths. She still hadn't burned enough energy to flare the crossed-swords emblem on her brow, though she was getting close.

She leapt over the side and set off across the sea, loping towards the enemy fleet at what she'd have called a ground-eating pace if she were, y'know, on the ground. A sea-eating pace? Sea-drinking pace? That was getting silly. Spray flew as she darted across the ocean. Good enough description. Ahead of her, the self she'd turned into a radeken was savaging sailors with her teeth. And Xander was...trying to get Dawn to do something. Bleah.

Some days it didn't pay to get out of bed, and she didn't even sleep any more.

*****

The Lintha were shooting at Fred. Didn't they know shooting seabirds was bad luck? She folded her wings and dropped like a stone into the sea, barely making a splash. 

_Release the kraken,_ she thought. You couldn't smirk with a beak. The gull body exploded into a mass of rubbery flesh and writhing tentacles. No sooner had she begun to reach for the ships, though, than a gigantic lamprey-thing set upon her, chewing at her arms. Rather than wrestle with it, she flung it out of the water and into a boat, where the barely-sentient monster began lashing out at its summoners.

Lintha leaned over the sides and began firing vitriol-based weapons at her. She ignored them. She'd have to hurt some people to get the job done, but she wasn't here to fight. With one tentacle, she lashed out at her still-invisible aura and fractured it into a shifting, blurring lattice. Her ten arms and tentacles became the illusion of dozens, shattering and recombining. One of these days she'd have to properly master this combat style.

 _Now_ the Lintha were confused, lashing out in all directions. Tentacles arced in and flung them into the water, or tossed more demons into the ships. Fred latched onto a mast, shrank back into human form, and vanished into the cabin before anyone noticed the squid was gone.

"Lintha," she said to an astonished glare, "I'm here to save your life."

Okay, now she had less than a minute before they--crash! The door burst open. "She's in the Elder's cabin! Defend Grandmother!"

"Yes," Fred said, her arm around the old woman's neck. "Defend her. Back off or I break her neck." The ancient waved them back, and they obeyed. "You have to know the Silver Prince means to betray you."

"As we mean to betray him, fool," the old Lintha rasped. "But not to you."

Fred thought like mad. Was there anything she could possibly offer this woman to work with her? "The Lintha want to rule the world before you die out. Right?" The ancient favored her with a nod and a derisive snort. "Let me tell you about an idea I like to call _democracy_."

*****

Gavrane Tomazri wasn't at all sure he liked the woman who called herself Unconquerable Shadow. He knew enough now to recognize that title as a slap in the Sun's face. Nonetheless, she seemed competent, and usually more...human than her Infernal counterpart. "New ugly coming in from Skullstone way," she said. "Few degrees off from our fleet's pursuit course."

"Can you give me a visual?" he asked of her.

"Lessee," she muttered. "What the heck? Looks like a Wyld mutant in a rowboat."

Tomazri frowned at the screen. "Your scale is off," he said finally. "That craft is several stories high."

"Mecha-rowboat?" Shadow wondered. "Readings say...dead human tissue and soulsteel. Some kind of framework full of zombies? Icky."

"Extremely," Tomazri said. "I've never seen anything like it."

"Well, you're about to," Shadow said, turning to look at him. "It's coming straight for us."

"Can you get a firing solution?" Tomazri asked. The most efficient way to deal with the monstrosity would probably be Luthe's main guns.

"Not yet. I was thinking, though. As a Moonshadow, I'm supposed to have diplomatic immunity to anything short of another Abyssal or a Deathlord."

Tomazri tried not to sigh. "You think you can solo a beast like that?"

"I can at least sneak in and find its weak spots," Shadow insisted.

"You don't need my permission," Tomazri said. Celestials! They always thought they could do everything themselves. Well, usually they could. "I'll be sure to hold our fire till you come out, or till it's right on top of us. I doubt it will matter to that framework."

*****

Dawn stepped back, one small step at a time as the radeken advanced on her. "Buffy? That is you, right?"

"It's me, _raksha_ ," the cat-thing snarled. "But you're not Dawn. There is no--"

"She's the only Dawn there is, Buffy." Xander put himself between the Summers girls. "It's complicated and weird and when are our lives ever anything else, but you were sisters--"

"We were never sisters, Xander. It was all a lie." The monster's draconic head swung toward him.

"You didn't feel that way until Kimbery messed up your head," Xander reminded her. "I have to wonder if being this...thing is affecting you, too, cause you seem like you're getting meaner."

Buffy trampled forward, crushing the chest of a maybe-dead Coral marine under one massive paw. "I'm just me," she growled. "If that thing is on our side, then let it follow orders. No burning ships Xander's on!"

Xander put the point of Wavecleaver on Buffy's throat. "I agree, Buffy, but I can take care of myself. Be nice."

"I'm not nice," Buffy grumbled, turning away. "I'm the Slayer. Remember that."

Dawn breathed a sigh of relief as Buffy launched herself into the air. "At least we've taken out some ships. She scares me a lot these days."

"I'll protect you from her if I need to," Xander said. "You know that, right?"

Dawn nodded as a last fleeing group of sailors raced by in front of them, headed for the lifeboats. She grabbed the last one by the head and sank her fingers in. Served him right. "Much better. I know you will, Xander. Thanks."

*****

So far the Lintha elder seemed to have been considering what Fred had to say. She nodded at talk of choosing your own leaders, looked thoughtful over an explanation of secret ballots, and smiled at the idea of equal representation.

"And of course," the elder interjected, "an Exalt who isn't happy with what the people want can simply persuade them they want something else, no?"

Fred blinked and stopped babbling. "Well, yes, we can do that. It's kind of a dangerous problem, but I think I can figure out a workaround. I just have to--"

"--ensure that no one even thinks of voting for a Lintha cannibal no matter what we hold over them. Oh, dear, no, we're on to your tricks, ally to the accursed traitor to the Great Mother, Buffy Summers, who slew sacred Dukantha." The old woman showed teeth in an expression that bore only a superficial resemblance to a smile. "Guards, obey the will of the Great Mother. The Family is all; my life is nothing."

The guards bared their hooked blades and lunged forward. Fred shrugged--if her hostage was useless, there was no point hanging onto her. She shoved the old woman to the floor to trip up her adversaries and melted down into cockroach form before they could get a good slash in. She fought on her own terms.

Fred buzzed out of the room before anyone broke out the flyswats.

*****

Shadow pulled the patrol skiff up to the juggernaut of a boat with the giant zombiemech sticking out of it. From the joints in the hull it was probably a transforming mecha, too, the better to climb up giant city-ships. It stank of rotten flesh, but Buffy had long since gotten use to that in her line of work, even before Shadow had been reborn as an Abyssal. The smell wasn't even worth noticing.

Now. If she understood how this worked.... Shadow burned a little energy to flare her caste mark, and a bloody-ringed circle burst open on her forehead. Then she hoisted herself over the side.

Squeezing into the frame was another matter. The spikes were a pain in the ass to avoid, and then she had to squeeze through a mass of zombies pressed so tightly together that she could barely breathe. Even as an Abyssal, the sheer extent of the stench and the pressure of this much clammy, slimy flesh was...of some definite yuck. But it was bearable. Buffy climbed over loose-scalped heads and crawled through flailing arms. The soulsteel struts served as ladders from one level to the next, and finally she reached the giant pseudo-robot's head.

Her caste mark didn't open the hatch there for her, but that proved unnecessary; it wasn't locked. Inside sat a one-eyed pirate with a roguish smile and perfect porcelain flesh. "Unconquerable Shadow, I presume," the man said in a voice like crumbling rust. "I am the Predator Slithering Through Hadal Depths. Your friend once knew me as Moray Darktide, but you may tell her that--thanks to her--that man is dead. Presuming, that is, that even your ghost escapes me. I'll give you a sporting chance; best of luck."

*****

Anya twiddled her thumbs. V'neef Tetra wasn't under anyone's command here. At most, she could put herself under the authority of the Immaculate forces here; the monks might well tell her to go peel potatoes while the Anathema brought destruction on their own heads. As Anya, she was kind of needed to hold down the fort, but seriously, no one was going to attack the gigantic naval base-ship-city-what have you. Being here was a formality.

 _WHOOM!_ Luthe shook as if a tsunami had just dropped it onto an island sideways.

"Warning," Towers of Azure intoned. "This station is under attack by submerged vessels. Number unknown. Classification unknown. Primary composition: soulsteel. Essence cannon and implosion bow fire detected."

Anya leapt to her feet. "Crap on a stick! Towers, repair bay status? What's the best available vehicle down there?"

"Repair bays are still full due to maintenance backlog. The best available equipment is a suit of Water Inurement--" _WHOOM!_ "--Armor, which will function for another five hours before systems begin failing. Reagents for maintenance are unavailable."

"No ships?!" This was ridiculous!

"All functional craft are in pursuit of the Black Fleet."

"Gods damn it! Get me to the maintenance bay, Towers." This was going to suck.

The city tilted sideways under another barrage. "Indubitably."


	25. The Curse in a Dead Man's Eye

Buffy raced from ship to ship. These things were state-of-the-art for modern Creation, but that just meant they had fancy multiple masts and reinforced firedust-artillery pads. They were made of wood pretty much all the way through, which meant Buffy was seriously capable of one-shotting ships bigger than her house. Just punch a hole near the waterline and the stupid things were, at best, paralyzed while all hands raced to patch the breach. If there hadn't been so freaking many of them, she'd have put the Water Fleet out of work for the day. It was barely even worth her time.

Bolts of crackling energy shot by, smashing holes in ships or setting them aflame. Firedust charges arced the other way, but in much smaller numbers. Honestly, she was thinking her work might be done here already.

 _Go find some storms to eat,_ she told her radeken self. _Next time we can be all charged up, at least weather-wise._

 _Suits me,_ radeken-Buffy responded. _I've been having to just use claws and teeth._

Buffy gave her a mental shrug. She was past it. Mnemon had been right. She'd been confusing morality with humanity, when they really were separate things. At worst, there were some moral problems from having power other people didn't, and those had mostly stopped bothering her. She just had to use her powers the right way.

She raced past the ship that Dawn and Xander were on. Maybe Xander was right, too. She'd learned not to blame Dawn, even if she didn't feel like a sister any longer. Radeken-her still reacted as if the wound were raw. Buffy gave the Admiral the olly-olly-in-free sign. He leapt overboard, and Dawn dematerialized to follow.

Hmm. Next they should probably go after that second fleet. Something was too easy about this.

*****

"Are there any other Exalted aboard?" Anya struggled with the gauntlets. They had to seal, damnit!

Towers of Azure responded, "Five Dragon-Blooded are in sickbay. Two are in critical condition. Three are stable but comatose. Recovery expected by late tomorrow morning. No other Exalted are aboard so far as sensors can detect."

Crap, crap, crap! Gloves were sealed. That just left the helmet. _Wham!_ "Airlock seals breached on deck thirty-eight."

"Seal the deck off and flood it!" Why didn't Sidereals get fancy armor-donning magic?

"Yes, sir! Sealing."

The helmet locked and Anya took a moment to poke at the hearthstones set into the breastplate. Whose idea was the aesthetic on this stuff, anyway? Indestructible armor might not fail at the boob and butt creases, and Anya was about as sexually-open as it got. But why would you design a tin can that was meant to _stay on_ for the duration with sex appeal in mind? She dashed down the corridor. "Towers, anything on these hearthstones?"

"The clear, reddish-orange teardrop is an ignition gem. It can light non-magical fires."

"Crap. The other?"

"The polished iron nugget is a memorial iron. It amplifies your willpower by helping you recall positive memories."

Sigh. "At least it works underwater." There was an airlock. She dashed in and cycled it. Who'd socketed these damn things?

"They do provide motonic renewal via your armor attunement." Towers' voice was growing fainter outside.

"Better that than nothing." The exterior door opened, and Anya found herself amidst a swarm of three- or four-person submersibles. Not great. She was going to have to crack at least one open, disable whoever--or whatever--was inside, and then use it against the others. At least she had that much of a plan in mind.

Wait. If they'd busted an airlock, they'd have to abandon that sub to get inside. That was a little better. Anya spun in the water and kicked on the thrusters. "Level 38, here I come."

**Chapter 82--The Curse in a Dead Man's Eye**

The invaders looked none-too-healthy, which was no surprise considering their submersible wasn't actually docked and they were completely waterlogged. Zombies. No, worse than zombies; nasty materialized specters. Anya narrowed her eyes at them; she didn't have long, and just busting open the ships wouldn't help against things like this. They were just sunken weapons platforms, not protection.

High stakes required high risk. Anya didn't have her bow, but she still knew Wood Dragon style. She stepped forward, hands raised, feeling the flows of mystic energy. Her hands burned green-black.

The specters sneered, and one of them surged entirely black. Tendrils of purest shadow rolled out of its body and seized at Anya. "That's right," she said. "Make it easy." And she grabbed one of the tentacles with her glowing hand. The ghost in question burned briefly with green fire, then crumbled away beyond dust. The remaining specters pulled back into a semicircle. "Oh, please," Anya said, forcing a laugh. "You're dead men walking." If Buffy could pun, so could she.

Rattling echoed from the busted airlock, and the specters began a hollow laugh. Anya glaced behind her to see a skeleton crawling up. No, the first skeleton ended at the rib cage, followed by a seemingly endless chain of more rib cages skittering in like an undead human centipede.

Anya aligned herself with the flowing strands of essence that made up Fate. This was going to be a long fight, but this stance would empower her every time an enemy failed to hurt her. Running out of energy was the last thing she needed now. And...the alignment promptly failed. It was the damn armor! She groaned and set herself to meet the undead monster's attacks. "Towers, why haven't these subs been blown away already?"

"Armaments are still not at their full original level. Only one in ten subsurface weapons are active due to lack of materials, leaving gaps in coverage."

Which the evil dead were exploiting. Great. And both the Luthean fleet and the Imperial fleet had been lured away from the city, the latter to fight two enemy forces that were just short of harmless. Hey, wait a minute. No, she didn't have any demon-luring magicks. What about-? No, her powerbow was useless underwater. Maybe--ack! She narrowly dodged a shadow-tentacle.

Meanwhile a second centipede was crawling into the city-ship. Soon they'd be here in overwhelming numbers. Why had she bothered with this stupid armor? She could've just done the Kostchie thing and been immune to drowning and...other stuff.

City...ship? No, surely that wouldn't work. Oh, what the hell, it couldn't hurt. "Towers, nearest galley or food storage?"

"Deck 35. Also, this deck is sealed off."

Anya facepalmed. "Where's the ship get its fresh water? Desalination plant?"

"The desalination plants are on deck 27. However, purified water is pumped throughout the ship."

Anya took a moment to punch a skelepede in the face, shattering its skull. The front rib cage dropped free, exposing another skull. "Where's the salt go?"

"Salt is expelled back into the sea, but relatively small quantities are sent to the galleys and hydroponics bay."

Anya sighed, smashing another skull and hurling the rib cage into the nearest specter. She was gonna regret this. "Towers, unseal the deck. Run the bilge pumps. Rotate Luthe evasively. I have an idea."

*****

Shadow threw fire at Moray, who wasn't expecting it. But he dropped and rolled under the gout of flame and came up with sword swinging. "Why do you not accept your destiny, Unconquerable Shadow? You were made to rule the dead, not the living."

"You didn't," Shadow pointed out. "Willow tricked you and you ran off to the Silver Prince to get turned into a Deathknight."

"Life is holy," the pirate said, "but death is eternal and therefore holier still." His sword cleaved Shadow's crossbow in two.

"Funny," Shadow said, "seems like whenever I meet something dead, it dies again in a few minutes." She spun and kicked Moray in the face. "Also? That was a _gift_. I'm going to be ticked off when I find out I wrecked that crossbow so fast." The pirate looked confused, so she kicked him in the balls. Unfortunately he didn't drop.

Instead Moray hurled his sword at the door, activating the latch and spilling zombies into the room. "Destroy her," he growled.

If they'd been vampires, throwing fire at them would've been a good tactic even at close quarters. Here it was more likely to get her burned alive. She didn't have any zombie-controlling powers, either, other than the immunity she'd used to get in. Not a lot of options on hand, really. Shadow plunged into the mass of undead bodies.

*****

"Leave the picket boats," Buffy said. "Help the sailors. Most of them are just here to get paid. If we're nice to them, they'll second-guess their leaders."

Dawn missed her sister so much. That was the real Buffy there, whatever had happened to her. She killed when she had to, but she did it to save lives.

"We need to circle around and take on another fleet," Mnemon warned as the Terrestrial officers glared at Buffy and Xander. "We can't risk dividing up our forces. They've cut us up too much already." Was Dawn the only one who saw what a bitca Mnemon was?

"Excuse me if I'm speaking out of turn," Xander said to a host of glares, "but what is _that_ thing?" He pointed to a looming black thing like a giant cactus in a canoe, closer to Luthe than they were now.

"Not one of ours," Aramida said uneasily. "Not something that could come from Coral or even the Lintha. That leaves Skullstone." The remaining officers began to argue quietly among themselves.

Mnemon scowled. "Do you really believe this half-grown Blasphemer can create the illusion of a giant ship in _my_ mind? Nor do we have any other assets in the area he could simply disguise. _Something_ is here to assault us, or our siblings of Luthe." She stretched out her sword at the craft. "This is our target, whatever it is. A pair of Anathema can wait, as can even a Lintha pirate fleet."

"I still say we can leave someone here to help the people whose ships I wrecked." Buffy's tone was strained. She must want to kick some Terrestrial butt.

A man with a shaven head raised his hand. "Pardon, worthies, but even an Anathema may sometimes speak small truths. Sparing one or two boats to aid these mortals, who may have been beguiled by a more vicious Anathema, is an act of compassion worthy of Sextes Jylis. Only let it be no more than that, lest we fall into a trap." A troubled frown creased his face, and those of several other Immaculates, but no one dissented.

Mnemon raised an eyebrow, as if to ask, "And you too?" Then she sighed and shrugged. "Very well, two picket boats will stay and give aid. The rest of us will deal with that monstrosity."

Xander gave Dawn a nudge. "Cops," he said softly. As in bad cop and good cop? And Mnemon was letting Buffy be the good cop?

"Huh. Maybe there is still good in Darth Statuary." Who'd have guessed?

*****

Anya raced away from the lifts toward the galley. She didn't need much...she thought. If size mattered, she might have a problem.

She was halfway there when a skelepede shot out of a maintenance duct and grabbed her by the arms. Anya kicked up and out, smashing its skull, but a second set of arms seized her legs. Just then the city's spin halted, jolted backwards, and halted again. The arms clung to her, but dislodged from the rest of the monster, and she darted ahead and into the galley. Salt packets. She grabbed a handful. "Towers, how many undead in the city?"

"Two more spine chains, fifteen zombies, and five more specters." That would be hard to deal with, but not impossible.

"Nearest lock?" 

She was on her way out of the galley when Towers responded, "There is a waste vent here for biodegradables. On your immediate right."

"Here goes nothing," Anya said, and tossed the packets into the trash. The vent flushed noisily. Had it worked? She couldn't see out.

"Warning to all inhabitants," Towers announced. "This vessel is dematerializing. Do not attempt to disembark. Repeat, do not attempt to disembark." In a more fragile tone, Towers whispered nearby, "Where are we? Everything is white."

Anya shook her head. "You're just going to have to trust me. Full reverse thrust."

*****

It wasn't fair that she couldn't take on demon shapes. Fred had ripped who-knew-how-many infernal worms to pieces by now, and had to fend off eristrufa to boot, but they kept coming. The Lintha ships were taking more damage overall than the demons, or at least that was how it seemed.

A radeken winged in overhead. Buffy had arrived to help. Clouds rolled out of the demon and giant hail began to fall on Fred. No, not Buffy after all. Shoot! Fred dropped beneath a ship, flipped it over, and surfaced, using it like a shell. The water grew choppy as focused winds tore up its surface. A second radeken dissolved into black vapor as it arrived, bringing a frozen chill and a gush of snow.

Fred was out of the direct path of this...war-weather stuff, and squid were clearly adapted to the cold of the benthic depths. Now, though, there were Lintha in the water, stabbing and slashing at her with their curved swords and mostly not drowning. She really had tried to broker a deal. Stupid unreasonable Lintha!

Gathering her anima around her, Fred jetted backwards through the water, vanishing momentarily from sight. Nelumbo had had an awful time trying to teach her that, but it came naturally now in any shape. The Lintha were swirled around as the water churned, and the radeken lost track of her.

Fred had a moment of double vision or something as a translucent presence passed over her, too. _What the heck was that?_ Then it was gone, leaving the Lintha just as disoriented. She sized up the situation. There were more Lintha in the water than still in ships. The only real threat that remained was the demons, and Luthe could handle them. Except...where was the city? It seemed to have evaporated into nothing. _Towers of Azure? Can you hear me?_ Only silence echoed in her thoughts.

*****

"Where the heck did the city go?" Alexander wanted to know, but no one had an answer for him. Even Mnemon's face bore a blank look that said she was hiding confusion.

Dawn murmured in his ear, "I see it. It's gone immaterial, like me. Don't ask how, but it's moving off fast."

"Okay," he whispered, "but how do I tell th--?"

"The city has dematerialized," a monk said to Mnemon. "I don't recognize the magicks it used, but I don't believe they come from the city."

"So what makes an entire--" Memory struck him, and he sidled up to Mnemon. "It's a Sidereal thing. Anya probably did it."

"Your wife?" Mnemon said uncertainly. She rubbed at her left temple. "Well, I'll presume she has good reason."

"She's escaping from something," Xander said. "Either that juggernaut ship or something hidden underwater."

"I'll check it out," Buffy said, and leapt over the railing. Several of the soldiers glanced at each other and, to Xander's surprise, Aramida gestured at them to follow. About a dozen dove into the water, followed by a monk clad only in robes.

"She shouldn't go alone," Aramida said simply.

"I'd appreciate if you remained to assist us in fighting the juggernaut," Mnemon said to him. "I know you're close friends."

"I'm used to letting Buffy take care of herself," he agreed readily.

At that moment, a second Buffy burst out of the juggernaut's uppermost club; it took him a moment to recognize Shadow at this distance. She was clearly audible, though: "Hey! Some help over here?"

Alexander put his hand to his face as Mnemon shouted, "All hands! Full speed!" and the fleet accelerated.

*****

Buffy sighed as the crossed swords flared on her forehead. She'd gone so long without realizing she could even dig this deep. It was reassuring to know she could; it was creeptastic being reminded her powers were rooted in darkness. But she made them her own.

Serpentine monsters with a dozen or more human rib cages swarmed around her. Undead. Well, she was in her element now. Between her speed powers and her newer swimming powers, she could outmaneuver anything natural down here and most things that weren't. She seized the nearest skull-serpent and began to spin, whipping it around her like a streamer. Not even the Terrestrials who had followed her into the water could match this. The creature, contraption, or whatever you wanted to call it tore apart under the strain, sending half-skeletons flying in all directions.

A monk left facing her as she crushed a skull between her hands gave her a simple nod of respect, though it was marred by a sad, stern frown. The soldiers were tearing apart another one of the rib chains, wrestling with it component by component. Oddly, though this man was surrounded by a Water Aspect's anima, he had the craggy face of an aged, powerful Earth Aspect. "I am Ragara Myrrun," he said. "You have fought well. In spite of everything, you are not yet a monster, and I am sorry." She couldn't follow his fluid motions, but she could see this much: he moved like a black belt...of something. He performed a kata of some sort and brought his arms together. Then a burst of orange light exploded out of him, flash-boiling the water around them into foam.

Most people would have been scalded, as he clearly expected of her too. She took the opportunity to sucker-punch him in the face, and....

It didn't work. He swept her fist aside as if it were a buzzing fly, then shifted his motions fluidly into something light and graceful. A second punch missed as he floated casually to one side, then brought around a chakram from his back. That was ludicrous; he couldn't-- The chakram slammed into her as if flying through the air, and hit her with a jolt like a jillion volts on top of that. Stunned, she floated limply in the water as he moved in for the kill.

His hand jabbed for her throat, and she caught it easily. "Nice try," Buffy grumbled. "Keep trying, and you might even hurt me."

Myrrun's cheeks cracked as he acknowledged her with a faint smile. Then he shifted to a spinning roll and locked his arms around her waist. She was disoriented for a bare instant, then recovered just in time to see his face as her spine slammed into his knee with a sickening crunch.

Buffy felt her legs go slack.

*****

Xander landed atop the juggernaut carrying a spare crossbow, and Shadow took it gratefully as the zombies began clawing at him. "Remember Moray Darktide?" Xander nodded. "We've lost him. He thinks we betrayed him. He let the Silver Prince make him a Deathknight." She began to drive bolts point-blank into the zombies' heads, which sagged in true death. But there were hundreds of the things grappling at their legs.

"Willow's going to blame herself," Xander said, shaking his head. "It's not her fault there were other things we needed her for." He began casually beheading zombies, severing them from the framework. "Breaking anyone away from the Silver Prince was always a long shot. He may not believe his hype, but his people do."

"What're we going to do with Skullstone when we beat him?" Shadow frowned at the crossbow. "Kinda shoddy. Best you could get?"

"On short notice, yeah." Xander leapt aside as a zombie began trying to bite through his boot. "Honestly, I thought we might set you or Willow up as ruler. He's done as well there as he has because his system isn't all evil. I figure some of it has to be lies, but you could make them true."

"Somehow," Shadow agreed. "All we have to see...."

Xander stared at her for a moment before bursting into laughter. "Right. But, you know, you're a Moonshadow. And Will's a Midnight. Either of you could manage it."

Blasts of energy began to rain down on the juggernaut thing. Xander flicked his sword whenever they came too close, diverting them down into the mass of zombies. "Willow's been gone a while. If she's still missing when we need someone to step in, I'll do it. What can it hurt?"

Xander smiled his old goofy smile. "That's my girl. Same as always."

Shadow grinned back. "Thanks." She'd needed that.

*****

Anya dropped down the shaft like a thrown spear, feet shattering the vertebral column of the last spine chain. Sure, it split the thing in two, but the monster was already pretty short. The automated defenses had gotten it a time or two.

More importantly, she had gotten ahold of her powerbow. She ripped a cable out of the wall and drew back her bow with the sparks that flew from it. The specter eyed her, its malevolent gaze uncertain. "Obliviate this," she said, and lightning shot from the bow. The monstrous ghost dissipated in a shower of energy.

The remaining undead turned to face her,those that were capable of fear displaying it plainly in their wide eyes and open mouths. "Let's clear the deck," she said, and went to work.


	26. The Untranslatable Sign

Ragara Myrrun drifted above Buffy Summers in the water. He had no doubt she would heal soon, but for the moment she was paralyzed from the waist down. He sniffed the water. No, she was not pretending this time; this peacock of an Infernal would not foul herself for a deception.

Myrrun closed off his breath entirely and let the Water anima go. He could not speak like this, but his apology was made. Save for her pride, this one was not yet evil. He would regret this, but she was Anathema. She must not be allowed to destroy the Realm.

"You're good," the Despot said. He responded with a nod and raised his hand. "You're probably better than me." His hand sliced down at her throat. Sparks flew, and his hand rebounded. Her flesh had broken two of his fingers. "But you're not as good as you think you are."

She began to kick. No matter. He was The Grandmaster. The first Dragon-Blood ever to achieve the Blossom of the Perfected Lotus. She was powerful, but she was not his equal. The Despot rubbed her lower back. "Basalt bones and brass nerves, I guess. Saved my life. A year ago, a _month_ ago, I'd have been wigged. But I'm past that now. I'm not human, not entirely." She closed her eyes, inhaled once, and opened them again. Her eyes flared green. "And I'm okay with that." Her fist closed around his neck.

Myrrun was unfazed. He thrust a knife palm into the suddenly-musclebound gut of the Infernal. She shook it off in a spray of sparks. No matter. She had a weakness and he would find it. She was...she was growing?

"I'm really sick of ruining outfits," the Despot grumbled as she reached twenty feet or more in height. A huge, jointed tail with a wicked barb arced up over her back. "But this? I'm actually starting to enjoy it."

Ragara Myrrun did the only thing he could do. Namely, he tore free from her clumsy grasp easily, spun in the water, and delivered a horrendously powerful roundhouse kick at the inhuman creature before him. She shot from the water like a breaching whale.

Myrrun shook his head sadly. The Anathema believed size would avail her. "The bigger they are," he mouthed. Yards away Buffy splashed down on her back. What a fool.

Though, in fairness, he did want to learn that form.

**Chapter 83--The Untranslatable Sign**

Luthe winked back into existence in the distance beyond Fred, who shrugged her tentacles. Probably none of the Lintha understood the meaning of such a gesture, but hey, it wasn't meant for them. She jetted off toward her city.

Sometimes all this seemed like a dream. Maybe that was why she'd accepted it so easily. She blipped back to Earth for a few days, entered another dimension, and now she was Cordelia the Queen. Only with more actual authority. One day she'd wake up and be...where?

She understood now what had happened to Luthe. It was the same way she'd gotten there to begin with, that helpful woman who'd taken her rowboat into the white seascape to reach her hidden ship. And then she'd abandoned Fred to Leviathan's stronghold and Xander on a desert island. What had happened to her, anyway, and where did Fred have to go to wring her neck, or maybe drop her through a portal into hell?

She was maybe halfway there when bolts of energy fire started streaking up the water beneath her. More Skullstoners, or had the Realm fleet turned on her? It didn't matter. She gathered herself to become a bird....

And sharp teeth dug into her fins and dragged her down. She rolled her eyes backward. The bone-crusted shark that had seized her could only be Swims-In-Shadow. She wasn't ready to face him, not directly. He was an elder, and she had beaten Leviathan by outthinking him at his weakest points, not fighting him strength to strength. 

That didn't stop Swims-In-Shadow from taking a bite out of her fin, clamping down again, and dragging her deeper.

*****

Anya released Luthe and let it drop from warp. She had a couple more zombies to hunt down, but honestly, this was easy. Kicking ass like Buffy could was great! Now she just envied her the increasingly spectacular powers that Buffy had only just stopped hating. What was the matter with that kid, anyway?

Ok, so making a whole city vanish was pretty spectacular. She was getting there.

Anya put regular arrows through the eyes of the last couple of zombies before they could make it out of the engine bays and into the heavily populated levels above. What had their goal been? Surely it wasn't just a crush, kill, destroy mission. No...the specters had made beelines for the higher decks. "Fred," Anya thought out loud. "She got to the bridge and took over the city. Maybe a ghost could do the same, and then we'd have a time getting them out of there."

It wasn't remotely fair that her entire visit with Xander was being taken up by this invasion. Sure, officially she was here to marry Buffy and Mnemon, but she'd been planning to take advantage of the event to take advantage of Xander. Iron Siaka had been gone for days now investigating whatever was going on in Chaya. That had left Anya alone in heaven with her paperwork, some very busy gods, and some Heavenly Ecstasy Aids she'd had quietly confiscated from the remnants of House Iselsi. She'd had an opportunity with Marilaq a'Lam, but Nazri had warned her that sex with the powerful demon-blooded ambassador from Malfeas was strictly against policy, so she'd kept it in her pants. Marilaq had seemed bitter about the whoke thing, too.

"Towers, have I got them all?"

Towers of Azure manifested his holographic form beside her. "No more undead can be detected in the city. However, the submersible fleet is still at large."

"Keep the city rotating and try to pick them off with its weaponry. Let me know if anything gets through. I've got martial arts practice, and Sad Ivory'll be pissed if I miss it."

"Surely the invasion fleets are more important?" Towers suggested with a puzzled frown.

"Pssh. Do you have any idea how many Terrestrials are sailing around out there? It'll be fine."

*****

Tara lounged on a silk-cushioned couch, eating grapes and drinking...well, she wasn't sure what it was, but it was delicious. Everything she'd been told about Raksi was upside-down. The ancient Lunar, far from pushing her into things she was uncomfortable with, gave her pretty much whatever she wanted and promised to treat any of her friends the same if they should arrive. "All I ask," Raksi had said, "is that you live as an Exalt should. Hardship has its place in training, but you've suffered enough. If you want to learn more, indulge your power, and yourself."

Today there was a delegation arriving from deeper into the great Eastern forests, from a city called Xu-Lak. Gods and elementals served Raksi just as mortals did, and so did Fair Folk. There was something familiar about that place name, but Tara couldn't remember what.

"Well," said an even more familiar voice, and Tara froze, "you're a sight for sore eyes. All day it's been nothing but Raksi, Raksi, Raksi. Tribute this, honor that. It's just not in my nature, y'know?"

"I kn-now," Tara managed. She was better than this now. She was Exalted. Glory was powerful, but she wasn't invincible. Not to her. Even Buffy had been able to stop her, with careful planning. But Buffy hadn't had her sanity ripped out. "You l-live in Xu-Lak?"

"I spend time there," Glory said with an off-handed wave. "I live wherever. Not in this excuse for a world, you understand. What were the Primordials thinking?" She glanced around at the pavilion. "I used to think that you Exalted would return existence to its natural state, or at least use your powers like this to do something really imaginative. But, no...same old rules as Creation, with a few pointless addenda."

"What should it look like?" Tara managed.

"No stupid ways to die!" Glory burst out at once. "You have to eat and you have to drink and you have to breathe and you turn it all into nasty gunk. You talk and nothing answers or keeps its word. You die and poof! You're gone with no way back. Where's the drama? Where's the excitement? Things have got to be made out of matter, and just a few kinds at that! It's inane and it's insane and it's all a waste of effort."

"D-do you need anything?" Tara asked, fidgeting. Any moment now Glory was going to get twitchy and plunge her hands into Tara's head.

"Just to talk to someone besides that overblown bitch of a Lunar!" Glory began to stalk up and down. "I mean, really, just because she can do a few tricks in Creation she thinks her shit doesn't stink and we should like kissing her ass! Well, no!"

"M-maybe you should g-go?" Glory would see right through her, and--

"If only! But if we didn't bring her slaves and meat and pretties she'd come make an example of someone and it sure as the thrice-cursed Abyss isn't going to be my glorious all-important self! No, someone would have to overthrow her and...." Glory trailed off and began glancing around at the trees and vines. "...well, that'll never happen. She's way too terrifying."

"...terrifying? Raksi?" Tara shook her head. "That's all just rumor. She pushes me sometimes, b-but she's always n-nice about it." Raksi hadn't done any of the awful things to Tara that she was accused of doing. 

Glory dropped down in front of Tara with her arms propping her up on the table and stared, mouth open. "Can I just say: Huh? Do you know we just delivered a shipment of human babies? For food? I mean, they're not our kind, but they're hers and yours. Did you know she eats human souls too? Or maybe you haven't heard how she lures men into screwing her so she can raise their babies as hers, or sometimes even to eat? She doesn't do all that? Hell, she's raised a couple of _my_ kids. That is one messed-up girl."

"She d-doesn't--"

"Open your damn eyes, kiddo! She does. May I never get to die again if she doesn't."

"B-but...but she's..." _My friend. My teacher. My lover. My...lover? How did that start?_ "She's not...she must be...."

"Loopy? By human standards, def. No question about it." Glory twirled a finger around her ear. "Cookoo, cookoo!"

If Willow or Fred were mentally ill, what would she do? Willow had taken care of Tara. "Do you think we could help her?"

Glory's eyes went wide. "Where do you get this 'we', chica?"

"That's a g-good question." Work with Glory? Maybe she was crazy too. Or still. Maybe all this was a hallucination.

Killing Raksi was out, then. Even if she could. But then, what?

*****

Dawn couldn't breathe. She sank deeper into the water, holding breath she logically shouldn't need. There ought to be a way to choose not to need it. She'd done that in the Wyld, after all. She rubbed at the sides of her neck. She could _imagine_ gills there.

Slits broke open on her neck, and she sucked water into her mouth, feeling it tickle membranes in her new gills as it fluttered out. _There we go._ Bodies were a convenience, not a constraint. For today, she chose to be Dawn Summers, and that was her sister over there being tossed around by some Dragon-Blooded jerkass.

New problem: what to do about it? The Terrestrial host had failed during the big invasion, but in general they were more powerful than raksha, and this guy was clearly tough. She wasn't just any raksha, either, though. She was the Key, a walking breach in reality.

She was bigger than him. She just had to figure out how to use it.

Changing shape wasn't the answer. Buffy was cutting loose, her demon-image flaring, and every time it did her body contorted into something different. (Dawn was proud of her.) A wooden statue covered in thorns. A giant. A girl wreathed in prehensile hair. She had her brass armor on now, too. But his movements were so fast and efficient she couldn't seem to land a blow.

Dawn unleashed the pride that this body resonated with, projecting it into the martial artist's core. He didn't even notice, though she sensed the power it leeched from him. She'd found an attachment he hadn't quite put aside: his self-importance. It imbalanced him. It slowed him. This time, when Buffy locked her fists and hammered down with them, he shot down into the water like a sinking piece of lead.

The man spun in the water and began to rise again, and there was Dawn. This deserved a one-liner, but she wasn't certain she could speak underwater without more practice. So she let her bleeding hand speak for her. Dribbles of red floated away in the turbulence the fight had made.

The martial artist regarded her uncertainly, then turned to face Buffy again. Buffy was gone. There was only a little boy struggling in the water. The man narrowed his eyes and pierced Buffy's illusion, taking him only a moment. But in that moment, Dawn's blood ignited with green light. Water swirled around the portal like a drain.

Dawn grabbed for him as the water carried her toward the rip, but he was too fast for her. Not too fast for Buffy, though. She seized him by the arm and twisted. The monk collided with Dawn, and they spiraled into the portal together. 

Dawn dematerialized as soon as she realized she was lying on rough concrete. No bleeding, no portal. Buffy was safe, now. And this guy?

He was on her turf.

*****

...down the drain.

Buffy stared in shock as the portal collapsed. The raksha had come to her rescue. Dawn really did care about her. The least Buffy could be was grateful.

And now Dawn was...inside herself? How did that work? Could she get out again, and if so where?

Only way she'd find out would be to live through this mess, ideally with as many Scoobies as possible. She got herself oriented. There was the surface, sparkling overhead. There was a fleet of black submersibles, and not far away a bony-plated shark attacking a giant squid many times its size. That wasn't right. She'd bet her left arm the squid was Fred, and the shark was working for the Silver Prince...somehow. Hadn't Fred mentioned something about a corrupted Lunar?

Buffy arrowed downward. Sometimes she wished she'd learned this Kimbery stuff ages ago in California--y'know, near the _beach_ \--but it usually hadn't mattered to her work. Fred had her arms wrapped around the shark and her beak was chomping at its armor, though not to much effect. Buffy slammed her brass-clad teakwood body into the shark at full tilt, breaking it apart from Fred and hurtling them down into the depths together.

She'd gotten a few yards when the shark mutated and shifted into a humanoid beast with huge teeth and claw-fins and skin like hyperhigh-grade sandpaper. Buffy's armor didn't take more than a few nicks from simple contact, but the monster's bite sank deep into her neck. She punched it in the snoot, but it didn't seem fazed. If there were some way she could get _all_ these transformations at once--

Wait. Had she seriously thought that? But it didn't seem as repulsive as it would have a month ago. And the door opened to her.

An eruption of green flame flash-boiled the water around her, and the shark-man howled. And Buffy...what had she turned herself into? Everything was tiny now.

The arm she seized the shark-man with was an agglomeration of gnarled roots and branches, bound in brass, wreathed in thorns, and coiled around a core of boiling water. She looked at herself, still looking at the shark-man--had she still not managed to get rid of that extra head? Thorny vines curled down from her heads, skull-shaped carvings of teakwood with green water boiling in their three eyes and mouth each. She was some sort of immense tiki- or wicker-girl, two-headed, scorpion-tailed, a monstrous plant-fire-demon thing, and....

And it didn't matter. She was still Buffy. It was _okay_. The shark-man gnawed at her, carving great wounds into her arm, but they filled right in with brass and stone. Sure, she wouldn't want to try window-shopping at the mall like this, but that wasn't what this body was for anyway.

Sharks and whales swarmed around her, but they weren't willing to close in through the boiling water. Angry ghosts were another matter. At the shark-man's direction they tore through her, wrenching at what must have been her soul, because pain seared through her without any visible wounds. Buffy drew back her arm and flung him, and Fred's tentacles caught the missile and spun him around, wrapping around his neck, trying to choke him. A bone collar protected him, but he was still held fast.

The shark-man shrank out of Fred's grasp. Buffy squinted. He'd become some sort of tiny fish, too small to see clearly. Fred pointed her tentacles and...Buffy couldn't see at first, but then she realized Fred was wrapping the fish in silk.

Then it vanished. Buffy could see clearly that it had dematerialized, though for an instant she didn't realize what she was seeing. The submersibles turned and raced for the surface. There must have been something there, because they had arrived underwater. Buffy swam after them, Fred trailing in her wake.

Buffy broke the surface, and the heat burning inside her burst into churning green flame that filled her and spread out into an aura that looked tight to her but must have ranged at least a couple of feet out. Fred had to swim off to one side before taking on her humanoid-squid form, just to avoid the searing fire. Up here there was a giant soulsteel cactus thing in a rowboat, like an array of clubs made of barbed wire and zombie flesh. That might have been a head at the top, or just a solider club; it didn't look nearly as articulated. Was that Xander up there? With Shadow, and they were hacking away at the zombies in the framework. The huge vessel was pulling away.

Buffy glanced down at Fred. "We can't let that thing escape." Her voice roared like flame in her own ears. She did have ears...she thought. "Who knows what else it'll destroy?"

Cries of terror and rage were coming from somewhere, as if someone were freaking out over a monster. Oh. Yeah. That would be her, and this wasn't going to go over well with the Dragon-Blooded, was it?

"Xander! Shadow! Get down!" She waved at them to get off the ship framework, but they just stared blankly in shock. "Get...off...get off already!" No use. They didn't recognize her. She could char that thing clean in moments with a clear shot, and her own friends weren't giving her the chance. Sigh.

Wow, this thing would've been one hell of a vampire killer, if there were any here. Kinda conspicuous at home.

Buffy pressed her lips together in irritation, then made a careful pushing "shoo!" gesture. "Move, you two!"

Shadow frowned and tugged at her hair. "Xander, I think that's me. I think we should do what she says."

Xander studied her face a moment. "Yeah, I got no problem with that plan. Jump?" He linked arms with her, and they jumped off the zombie boat.

Buffy crossed her arms under her chest, then blew twin jets of green flame at the undead mecha. Shadow lifted one hand out of the water and added her own smaller burst of fire. Xander...shrugged and began swimming toward Mnemon's flagship. Its components in flames, the zomboat began to slowly retreat. "Xander," Buffy said, "make sure Mnemon knows to pursue that thing." Xander saluted briefly and began to climb aboard.

The whole structure was in flames now, and Shadow and Fred turned to swim for the boat, too. With a shrug, Buffy released wicker-creature-on-fire and began shrinking down to herself.

She reached the flagship and draped her mobile hair around her naked body as she climbed the ladder. The Dragon-Blooded either stared or turned away from her. Or stared and _then_ turned away, like Peleps Aramida. Even Mnemon's eyes were wide and haunted. "That really was you, wasn't it? I've never seen anything like that. It was...it was magnificent."

 _That isn't what your eyes say,_ Buffy wanted to tell her. "We can't let that thing get away to fight another day," she said instead.

"It has two Anathema in it," Mnemon said without hesitation. "Deathknights."

"Yep," Buffy said, popping the p, and went belowdecks. No one followed.

The wedding might be off.

*****

Fred clambered aboard the Terrestrial flagship _Dragon's Fury_. "You guys saw that, right? I think Buffy's past her hangups."

Alexander shivered. "She sure is." He glanced around at the frenetically-nervous Dragon-Blooded. "Might not be a good thing."

"You're right," Shadow told Fred, "and she's got the bad guys running. I just wish I knew if we should join them."

*****

Willow stood in front of the tribunal and shrugged. "You can impede me if you wanna. I'm sure the Walker in Darkness'll be _reeal_ pleased to know you stopped his Deathknight."

The black-furred Varajtul glared pointedly at her. "Will you leave this place? We will guide you away from here as fast as possible."

Willow folded her arms. "I really don't know. You people haven't exactly shown great hospitality. All I want is to catch up with a kidnapped friend, and here you are hauling me in front of the judge. Maybe I _should_ get the Walker's attention. Or even the Neverborn."

"No, by no means," the judge said, leaping to his feet. "Our best guides will take you to wherever you must go. This we swear."

"Oh, all right," Willow said. "Just let me cast this locator spell, and we'll be off."


	27. Dream Within a Dream

Buffy squirmed, struggling to get comfortable, but no matter where she rolled she was lying on her sores. Her hair was falling out. Her teeth were falling out. She was rotting from the inside...again.

"I put it off too long," she said. "Everything's been so busy."

"And this is better?" Mnemon said quietly. Her left hand fidgeted on her chair arm. 

"It sucks hairy goat balls," Buffy said, trying for at least a grin. Mnemon didn't give her one. "It's better than catching some Sidereal assassin's disease. Or some horrible Wyld plague. Or, hell, the Contagion. Just because my friends haven't caught it yet doesn't mean it's really gone."

"True," Mnemon said. "To unleash that on your world...or on ours again...I don't think we'd be so lucky a second time. But your friends don't have such protection?"

"We may just have been lucky. They need to find a way to be sure asap." Buffy began to cough raggedly and turned aside so she wouldn't spit blood in Mnemon's face. "I take it the wedding's off, right?"

"What? You said this was neither fatal nor contagious. Why would the wedding be off?"

Buffy tried to ignore the nausea rising in her gut. She didn't want to start vomiting again just yet. "Now you know what an Anathema really is. You've seen my real face."

"I have known what Anathema are all my life, Despot. I have fought them, faced powers more hideous than anything I have seen from you. And I have seen what you use your power for." Mnemon made an effort to...what was she doing? "If...if my mother were alive, and the Realm whole, I would kill you myself. Such would be my duty. But it is not your specific powers, however frightful, that make you dangerous." Her hand rose, crept over the covers, and gripped Buffy's, trying to avoid the sores. "There are those who would take this for weakness."

"I know..." Buffy fought to hold her gorge down. "...better. We'll never even be...friends, I know. Couldn't hope f...f...." She ducked her head into the pail and began to heave.

Mnemon waited several minutes for her to finish, then wiped her mouth with a soft silk cloth. "They say monarchs are rarely able to marry for love, and from what I have seen it is true. And they say I cannot love in any case. You are an exquisite monster of pride and terror, Despot Summers. You are loyal to your friends, yet kill your enemies without compunction or remorse. My mother defiled her pure Dragon's Blood with one mortal consort, Buffy. Only one. Think on that. If there is anyone I will ever love as my mother loved the founder of House Nellens...it would have to be someone remarkably like you." She leaned down and kissed Buffy's bloody lips. "I have no choice but to see to matters of state. Think of me as you are able."

Buffy was only able to focus on that for another ten minutes. But she did try.

*****

Dawn Summers luxuriated in bodilessness.

She'd been afraid of this the first time she could remember it clearly, when Glory was teaching her. She'd still thought of herself as human, and evaporating into nothingness had terrified her. But she wasn't human--just a good facsimile.

A young man crouched in front of Ragara Myrrun. "Eat," he said through lips like grey granite. "Keep your strength up."

"I will not," Myrrun answered. "I cannot be tempted by the likes of you. My strength comes from your enemies, the Elemental Dragons, and from their avatars."

"You know that to be a lie," said Myrrun's mother. "You know that the Immaculate Dragons are a distortion of the Usurpers who overthrew the Solars."

"They are a metonomy," Myrrun said, "standing for the literal fact for those whose faith would be shaken. Through the Immaculate, we draw closer to unity, righteousness, and a better world."

"A better world?" laughed the porcelain doll on Myrrun's shoulder. "Better than what? Hunting and gathering and waiting for the next disaster to kill you off? My world sucks, and it's still a paradise next to yours."

"Paradise for the individual is often hell for the masses," Myrrun disagreed. "You have no doubt been beguiled by prosperity carried on the back of oppression. Through the Dragons we grow slowly, but we grow together."

"There can be a balance," the centaur argued. Maybe there was more of the Thought of Ea Gso left in her than she realized. "Different choices, different ways of life."

"Individualism grows like a cancer till it consumes all other ways of living," Myrrun said. "Diversity of thought proves a sham, for who would not run after the illusion of a better life?"

Dawn picked up the monk between her fingers. "I didn't bring you here to debate," she said. "I brought you here to save my sister." Myrrun laughed uproariously as she dropped him into her mouth.

**Chapter 84--Dream Within a Dream**

"It's too hot," Green Aurora complained. "Too wet. My fur--"

"I was supposed to get one of your society's best guides," Willow reminded her. "I took you instead, because they said they'd kill you for revealing their secrets. You're lucky I didn't leave you to die." A huge viper slid toward the Varajtul, and Willow zapped it. "You eat people."

"I've seen you--"

Willow cut her off. "As little as I can and survive. And I let them live. And it doesn't make me more spiritual, just the opposite. And--"

"You never stop talking about how you and your friends kill demons." Aurora struggled over a huge tree bole. "I'm sure you will say that they are lesser beings than yourself. Yet look at us!"

"It's not about them being 'less'. It's not even that they're evil," Willow insisted. "It's about protecting their victims."

"And mine, I suppose?"

Willow took a moment to study the posittion of the sun. "You're worse. Vampires don't usually enslave their victims for eternity. But if I can keep ensouling Angel knowing what he did to Drusilla, I can give you and your society one shot at redemption." She angled a little further south. "You've had to struggle to survive in the frozen North. And you're the product of your culture, which is something vampires can't say."

"You babble too much," Aurora complained.

"Some people find it adorable," Willow said. "I'm not stopping for the likes of you." She peered around, eyebrows furrowed. "Lazy Lob and Crazy Cob are weaving webs to wind me." She stretched out her hand and flung lightning.

A spider whose body was woven out of green vines and whose legs were jagged branches fell out of the trees. Green Aurora stepped up and poked it; its body was a little larger than her head. "Not so terrible," she said.

Willow winced. "We had to tempt fate," she muttered, as the forest around them came alive with spiders. "Welcome to Mirkwood."

*****

Buffy tore the skin from her legs, working her way up painfully. As before, beneath the rotten flesh was soft flawless skin. "Never gets easier," she grumbled. "You guys better have the wedding preparations well under way. Not going to be delayed again."

Anya held out a black and crimson dress. "Mnemon's chosen the bridesmaid gowns. I hope they meet with your approval."

"What about me? Are white weddings a thing here?" Buffy bounded from the bed, feeling energized. She'd been passed out for a few hours this time and that was about as close as she got to sleeping these days.

"Mnemon heard they were only for virgins," Fred said slowly. "She hasn't chosen your wedding gown, but hers is, um...scarlet. I didn't try to explain the connotations of that."

"Just as well," Buffy said. "She wouldn't change." She threw the windowshades open. " _Now_ the storm rolls in. What about decorations?"

"Up all over the temple," Shadow said. "Hope you don't mind statues of the Incarnae. They've all been good and cleaned, 'cause Leviathan and his bunch sure didn't care for anybody remembering the gods."

"I'm not even gonna notice," Buffy said with a grin, "unless they decide to open their eyes and make a fuss."

The doors opened and Mnemon strode in. Buffy pretended to scream and cover her eyes. "Mnemon, don't you know it's bad luck to see the bride before the ceremony?"

Mnemon's eyes widened for a moment. She covered them quickly, then gingerly dropped her hands to reveal a frown. "I will sacrifice to Venus to counteract the curse," she said, "if it is real. Is it real?"

The Scoobies all looked at one another. "It's...well, it's a superstition," Fred said. "I don't know if it's for real."

"Belief carries some power," Mnemon said. "I will make the sacrifice just in case. I see you're feeling better, Buffy. That pleases me."

"Me too," Buffy effused. "I feel a thousand percent better. I feel like running up and down the walls. I feel like...like...I feel like getting married."

Mnemon strolled up to her, towering over the Slayer. "Have you given thought to an heir?"

The Scoobies started inching toward the door, and Buffy giggled. "Not like that, guys. Apparently I can just...get preggo whenever I want. Since I learned the cloning thing anyway. The big problem is..." She glanced at the window nervously. "...Exalted buns take a whole year to cook. And a year here is _fifteen_ months, not twelve. Don't ask the obvious questions cause I don't have answers."

Anya looked at Fred. "Did you know that? I mean, when you and Levi--?"

Fred nodded. "Actually it's pretty simple. I altered my body to make gestation faster. You know, like puppies. I ought to start showing in another half a month, and have the bahy a month and a half after that. Buffy, your hearthstone should be able to let you do the same."

"Three months?" Buffy tried not to goggle. "It'll be like I'm a balloon!"

"Maybe faster," Fred said, rubbing her belly.

"Stop the world," Shadow laughed, "I want to get on. Talk about your real-world applications for power."

"Careful," Anya warned. "The Neverborn won't like it."

"Speaking of Abyssals," Buffy said, "any chance of my last two bridesmaids making it back in time?"

"No word from either of them," Fred said, fiddling with her sleeves.

"And they're not showing up in the Loom," Anya said. "Maybe you better make alternate plans."

*****

Tara woke up and stretched, careful not to disturb the sleeping elder next to her. Raksi slept when she chose and woke when she chose, and usually let Tara do the same. While the raksha delegation was here, they were staying in Mahalanka Without so that Tara could field demands without waking Raksi to leave Mahalanka Within.

She rose easily to her feet and rubbed her eyes, then took a moment to return to her female body. Being male wasn't the awful thing she'd feared, but neither was it particularly attractive. She thought maybe a week would be her limit, but that was a guess.

Tara unlocked the bedroom, then took a moment with her feet and joints before leaping into the trees. She could move easily like this through the interwoven branches, as if she were one of the omnipresent monkeyfolk that Raksi ignored. Raksi could be sweet when she wanted, but now that Tara's head was clearing she could see the cracks and the blind spots.

High in the air, she leapt for a window of the ancient Factualist Seminary of the Inviolate Heavens. No one had disturbed her work, though it seemed someone had tried to copy it like a ritual. Tara knew she hadn't had Willow's genius, or Fred's, but she wasn't any less college material, and with an Exaltation backing her up...well, she should be able to get _somewhere_ with this.

Another precaution first. She'd started learning to extend her senses. Tara sniffed all around the ancient scratchboard and found only the scent of monkeyfolk. Raksi considered them far beneath her, a failed experiment. She never wore their form. They did seem a little less intelligent on average than humans, but only a little, so Tara didn't understand what was so wrong with them. Raksi might have concealed herself some other way, but for now, that was the best Tara could do.

She picked up a stylus and went to work.

*****

"You're certain the Yozis approve of this?" Sulumor was aghast. At least, Buffy thought she was aghast. That pale face made it hard to tell. Xander would point out now that she was, in fact, a ghast, but that was neither here nor there.

"If it advances their plans, why not?" Of all her allies, Buffy was least sure where Sulumor stood. So far as she could tell, the Dune Woman genuinely revered the Yozis, out of gratitude for saving her life if nothing else. Something was off about her cloaked attendants, something that ate at the back of Buffy's mind, but what?

"I suppose," Sulumor agreed, "that access to the highest levels of the Empire is an advantage. Still...it suggests their plans are not in perfect accord." She gestured at Cyan.

"We knew _that_ ," Cyan sneered. "The Yozi are rarely at one with themselves, let alone each other. They want out; they have little else in common."

"If Buffy can get that kind of in with the Realm," Gryfa Theed said, "she could just as easily destabilize it as fix things." It was easy to talk with your mouth full when you could manifest more mouths on your hands. "What's this stuff again?"

"Popcorn."

"Good shit, Despot. Anyway, I got nothing against Nemmy. She's supposed to have an agreement with the Mask of Winters, though."

"The Mask of Winters is about as trustworthy as the Ebon Dragon himself," Meticulous Owl pointed out. "Maybe less, if that is possible. Mnemon knows as much."

"I know what?" Mnemon asked, stepping through the door. "That the Deathlords are liars and agents of Oblivion? Is there anyone who does not? Realpolitik, friends, is a necessary evil in these times, when the Mask openly rules Thorns."

"Got any plans to take it back?" Cearr asked. "Ya gotta lance a sore when it festers, if ya wanna keep the leg."

"Already on it," Buffy said. "We've got a friend there, busy diverting the Mask's attention towards Gem. Nobody can just bamf an army into my city, not even present company." She gave Mnemon a wink. "He can't move on me and still be ready for you, but if he doesn't he'll soon wish he had."

"I operate as openly as I can," Shadow said. "It's important that people know Buffy Summers can be in more than one place at a time."

"That I can strike anyone, anywhere," said former-radeken Buffy, bringing a tray of wine.

"Even at the heart of Thorns," Buffy Prime finished. "Without knowing my limits, he has to assume the worst."

"That's brilliant," Captain Feasalt said. "And you really can be in multiple places to coordinate, and to make more than one plan at a time, so even without your duplicates having powers of their own they represent a real strategic threat."

"Yup." Buffy took a drink of wine, then made a face. "Bleaugh. I'm the scariest scary on the block."

Son of Crows shook his head in disbelief. "And here I thought your reputation was overblown. With you on our side, I'm not sure what can stand in our way."

*****

"...therefore Mela saith, let the lantern take care of itself...."

"Yeah, baby, preach it! Preach!"

The doors swung open at his approach, startling the couch's occupants. They began to rise, but instead he sat down across from them.

"I'm not certain I understand why you've called me here," Typhon said. The couch was comfortingly soft, an emblem of slow decay under the weight of entropy. The wine was well-chilled, symbolizing the cold death that would come once the sun turned black. The palace was quiet, demonstrating the ruin of meaningful politics in the Empress' absence. "Or how."

Tepet Fokuf smiled his vaguely senile, idiotic smile, and leaned forward, nearly dumping the neomah on his lap onto the floor. "No one trusts me with anything important," he whined. "If you were summoned here for a purpose, it can't be anything I did. Careful, Rianine." He clutched weakly at the demon's upper arm before she could fall.

"I suppose the same is true of your concubine?" Typhon supposed she was pretty enough. Neomah were all alike.

"Oh, dear, yes," Fokuf muttered. "I'm not even a thaumaturge. But there are a few people--only a few--willing to do me a favor every now and then. You understand? Would you like to share?"

Typhon shook his head firmly. "The dead do not partake in carnal pleasures." It was not true in the strictest sense, but it was what his masters desired, and it was certainly an image he chose to project under most circumstances. All desired what they could not have.

"Oh well," the Regent said, with an ineffectual wave of his hand. "I should get to the reason you're here."

Typhon scowled. "I thought--" He halted. Fokuf had pulled out a brazen automaton head from under the couch.

"Once the Empress' personal advisor," the Regent said, "but they finally fell out. Still, Eyem knows one heckuva lot."

"Wow!" the head spouted. "Check out those tits! Hey, what happened to Scarlet? Who's this dweeb?"

"He's not playing with a full deck," said Fokuf. "It's a shame." From under a cushion he removed another astonishing item: the Empress' diadem, hearthstone and all.

"They trust you with that?" Typhon tried not to gape.

"Well...not precisely," Fokuf said with a shrug, "but it's not as though I can attune to it, being a mere helpless mortal. I managed to talk a friend into letting me see it for a bit."

Typhon stood up, knocking the couch aside. "Explain this! What is going on? Why are we here?"

"Oh, nothing much," Fokuf said weakly. "Just that I've figured out how to access the most powerful weapon in _at least_ two universes."

*****

"So I came to you," the Slug said, wheezing. "Pardon, but being aboard a ship doesn't agree with me." "Slug" Nagezzer would never admit to his power or impeccable breeding. For one thing, it might hint that he desired the throne. No one on the heights would tolerate a cripple as Emperor. 

"I'm glad you did. But are you truly willing to stand with me in this matter?" The Slug had long ago lost any chance of excelling in combat, with his injury.

"Whatever I can, I will do. Mnemon has the skill to sit on the Scarlet Throne--more so than you, perhaps--but she is plotting with Anathema. The Realm cannot survive that, whatever her intentions."

"I agree," she said, donning her Dragon armor. "Especially not if this artifact you speak of is real."

"It is a thing of terrifying power, Roseblack. And I can tolerate it on no finger but yours."

*****

"You were waiting around in the engine bays in Luthe?" Alexander rubbed his temples. "I don't understand."

"I was not waiting around," Anya insisted. "I was practicing Sidereal martial arts exercises."

"All right." He was trying to be patient. He was trying really hard. "Why did you not come help us? Swims-In-Shadow and Moray and most of the enemy subs got away. Even the juggernaut got away."

"First," Anya said, holding up one finger, "I didn't think I could have done much damage to the fleet. Second, Sad Ivory told me very strictly to practice at the same time every day. Third, I'm pushing my boundaries getting involved in politics, even with Skullstone, until my paperwork clears." She pushed the three fingers forward. "That's just how it is."

"Paperwork?" Alexander hoped she could hear how appalled he was. "These are the evil undead we're talking about."

"And everybody in the Commission on the West and the Commission on Essence-Users has plans for dealing with them that I shouldn't disrupt if I can help it," Anya insisted. 

"Ahn, you haven't worried about paperwork before this," Alexander pointed out.

"And it's gotten my butt audited, denied use of the Calibration gate, and given a subpar manse in Yu-Shan," Anya said slowly, as if talking to an idiot.

"Compared to the world ending, that doesn't seem all that harsh!" Did she really not understand? 

"Listen to me," Anya ground out between her teeth. "As long as I can trust someone else to be the boots on the ground, it's part of my job to prepare for the _next_ apocalypse. And the next one after that, and the next one after that. If we stop one apocalypse in a way that leaves us completely vulnerable to the next, that isn't a real win! _And_ that includes if heavenly politics leaves me without the resources to help next time!"

Alexander took a deep breath. "Okay," he said. "There's something to that. We need to get the system fixed, but I understand what's happening. I have this plan to get the attention of the Unconquered Sun, and then maybe together we can--" Alexander broke off. Anya had moved when he mentioned the Unconquered Sun, moved so fast that he hadn't seen what she'd done. There was a switchklaive buried in his chest, and Anya was staring, eyes wide, at her hand holding the hilt.


	28. She Left the Web, She Left the Loom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise new crossover beginning in this chapter

The Dowager of the Irreverent Vulgate in Unrent Veils crouched above the Well of Udr, meditating on the Beyond. Infinite universes composed the Beyond, and somewhere among them, an Anti-Creation with which her world could join and be annihilated in perfect Oblivion. 

From time to time she wondered in what sense these cosmoi were real, for if they continued, had true Oblivion really been achieved? But tonight she felt assured, the Abhorrence of Life embracing her like a lover. She _would_ find Anti-Creation, and soon. She felt a presence reach out to her, calling from the Beyond.

"Come, come to me," she crooned, "come and catch my hand." She stretched out her arm into the Well, heedless of Oblivion. The Well lay Beyond Oblivion, and even if it did not, the Abhorrence of Life would protect her.

A hand caught hers. The Dowager did not start back in surprise. Anything might wait for her. Anything might come to her siren call. She merely drew back and pulled with a fraction of her strength.

A slender woman's hand had locked its fingers to hers. She pulled, and the brunette rose from the depths, her eyes wide with madness. This did not disturb the Dowager. Madness was the air she breathed. She understood that only a madwoman could desire the Abhorrence of Life as consummation, and did not care.

"Beautiful," the madwoman in her grip breathed, and this _did_ surprise the Dowager, just a bit. The hand she held was the hand of a Sidereal Exalt, somehow arisen from far enough Beyond Fate to make Oramus quail. "Gan sends greetings, Dowager. See the Turtle of enormous girth? On his back he holds the Earth." A child's doggerel?

That was all right. The Dowager knew children very well indeed.

**Chapter 85--She Left the Web, She Left the Loom**

Amy tried to suppress a shiver. The woman in this room was swathed in bandages that covered her face. "We don't understand it," the nurse said. "Her main injury at first was a stab wound, but soon thereafter she developed a radiation burn. She's got full-on radiation sickness now. If you can't heal her, she won't live out the night."

Amy made herself walk to the bed as Kate asked, "But you called me first. Why?"

"She asked us to. Ms. Maclay is some sort of antiquities dealer. Said she knew you."

"Maclay?" Amy jumped a little. Hadn't Faith said Willow's girlfriend was named Maclay? God, she wanted to be out looking for Faith. "Ms. Maclay, can you hear me? Do you want me to heal you?"

"...please...." It was the faintest whisper of a voice.

Amy laid her hands on the stricken woman and released a breath that sparkled mistily in the fluorescent lights. Ms. Maclay inhaled the shimmer, then sat up in bed and clasped Amy in her arms. "Thank you. Thank you so much. She said nothing could save me."

"She?" Kate asked. "Who did this to you?"

"I don't know. She burned. She burned with green and silver fire, and she said...." The woman paused in confusion. "She said she'd go after my sisters next. I don't have any sisters. I'm an only child. Nurse, can you--?" She motioned to her head. After a moment's consideration, the nurse cut the bandages with a pair of scissors and began to help unwind them.

"Ms. Maclay," Kate said, "you told me you haven't had much contact with your family in years."

The woman's skin was patchily disfigured and speckled with blood; her black hair had plainly been falling out in clumps. She nodded. "My family is Assembly of God," she explained. "My father was abusive...said I was a demon or a witch or something. When I left, I left the church and eventually started practicing Wicca. I thought I might as well be what they said I was, at first."

"Can you cast any actual spells?" Amy wondered.

"A few," Ms. Maclay agreed. "I think maybe suppressing my potential so long hurt it."

"Do you have any pictures of your family?" Kate asked.

Ms. Maclay asked for her wallet, then shuffled through it, eventually pulling out a small image of her as a child, along with a man and woman, the latter holding her. Both were sandy blond, with rounder faces than hers.

Frowning a little, Kate asked, "Is it possible you're adopted? They don't resemble you at all."

"I...might be. Mom couldn't have more children, but she always called me her 'little miracle'. I guess I just assumed she was my biological mother."

Kate nodded. "It's not as hard as it used to be to track down biological relatives. You might have sisters you've never met. Want to help me find them?"

"To keep them safe? Absolutely. Can I get released from here?" The nurse hurried off to find a doctor and some paperwork. "Should I come with you to your, um...headquarters?"

Amy nodded. "Probably that'd be safest."

"We'll get you checked out and take you there ourselves," Kate said, "and we'll start tracking down your sisters right away, Prudence."

*****

"No," Glory said. "You don't understand. She's...do you realize what she's done to me already? You think I bring tribute to any common Exalt who comes down the pike?"

"Um," Tara said, "no. I wouldn't expect you to. You understand I'm not trying to hurt her. She needs help. She--"

"I can't outfight her. You don't see at all. I am Glorificus the Almighty. I command the allegiance of thousands. In the Wyld, I am _omnipotent_." Glory leaned forward across the table. "Balor once gave me a wink, don't you get it? And Raksi still took me to pieces. Your plan isn't going to do anything but piss her off."

Tara leaned back, frowning and fidgeting at her hair. "Fred beat Leviathan. She--"

"That's great. That's worth watching with popcorn. That's not where you are. You can't take over Sperimen the way she took over Luthe. She'll eat you alive and crap you out, and...then do it again literally." Glory stood up. "That's it, I'm going to go tell her. I can't leave without permission and I can't stay here and keep this quiet."

"Glory, _please_...."

"Hell no." The raksha who would be hellgoddess strode off to get her better.

Tara leaned back, relieved. Everything was going according to plan.

*****

"Your plan's not working," Anja said. Buffy just met her gaze. "You're disturbing the Mask of Winters all right. But he hasn't realized it's you. He's not focusing on Gem, he's looking at Lookshy. You're too far away to be a plausible threat. The real you, I mean, and your kingdom."

Buffy crossed her arms under her flea-bites and kept her eye fixed. "You're saying I'm not real."

Anja spat at her feet. "This isn't time for some game! The Mask of Winters could kill you with a dirty look!"

"Exactly," Buffy said. "That's exactly the right time for games. If he notices me, I mean really notices, he'll kill me."

"Pardon me," said the Sage of the Depths, "but are you telling me you're simply unwilling to put your life at risk? Because if so, you are simultaneously doing too little and too much. If--"

Buffy cut him off. "It's not that at all. I'm choosing the right moment to show myself. Here's the thing: I've died before. All of me. It totally sucks, but to save the world? Here I am putting myself on the line. We're the Slayer. If I get through it somehow, yay me! But if I die, I'm still out there. I don't understand all the wacky philosophy, but all of me isn't going to die, and that's good enough for this me. Okay?"

Anja thought that over. "You show your face and the Mask knows you're behind the sabotage. He kills you, but that...doesn't stop it somehow?"

"Geran Devon's the Slayer, and I'm his Watcher. Elloge's his patron, so he's mucho better at the hit-and-run than I ever was. Killing me will end his training, which sucks, but it won't stop him, and it won't stop his Rose Thorns either."

"His Rose Thorns?" the Sage asked.

"His Scooby gang. His bunch of saboteur buddies. He's managed to find an Outcaste, maybe two, and a couple of thaumaturges. It doesn't sound like much, I know, but my Scoobies managed under Mayor Wilkins's watch for two whole years before he started even worrying. They didn't even know thaumaturgy." Buffy put on a smug grin.

"Was Mayor Wilkins a Deathlord?" Anja asked. She wanted to ask if Buffy was revealing the real plan, or just another layer of subterfuge, but at least she saw that Buffy really had done this before. She might be outmatched in a contest of wits with a Deathlord, but she wasn't just flailing blindly.

"You know, I don't even know _what_ Richard Wilkins was," Buffy admitted. "He turned himself into a powerful demon, but I don't know what his Circle was, even. But he was three steps ahead of us right up until Graduation Day."

"And on Graduation Day?" Anja lifted one eyebrow slowly.

"We blew him to smithereens," Buffy said calmly. "The eclipse happened, he turned into a huge snake demon, his vampire army got stymied by a bunch of students with crossbows, his movements got corralled by more students with flamethrowers, I reminded him I'd stabbed his favorite foster daughter in the guts, and then I led him on a merry chase into a room full of high explosives. Boom! Dead Mayor Snake. Any questions?"

The Sage rubbed his bald head. Anja took that to mean he had nothing, so she asked her question. "Is there still a place here we can party together before the endgame?"

Buffy shrugged. "All I wanna do is have a little fun before I die. I got a feeling I'm not the only one."

"Sage, will you join us?" Anja knew he didn't care about sex, but he might enjoy getting good and stoned.

"I am in," the Sage said agreeably. "This will rival the battle with Leviathan. I prefer to go into it with an easy mind and a smile on my face. How long do we have?"

"Until the sun comes up over Santa Monica Boulevard," Buffy deadpanned. Anja had no idea what she was talking about. Nor did the Sage, to all appearances. So neither of them spoke up. "See what I have to work with?"

*****

None of Ragara Myrrun's training hsd prepared him for this.

He was a student again, learning incomprehensible "modern science" and a history of a world without Exalts, a world of mortals alone. His martial arts functioned. His elemental charms functioned. No one paid them any mind, unless he hurt someone, and even that was quickly forgotten or hidden away.

The history was a lie. This world swarmed with demons, especially the undead demons called vampires, and other creatures were secretly present as well. Even an unshaped raksha managed to crawl free through the dreams of a comatose little boy.

The science was a half-truth at best. Even with only the Emerald and Iron Circles functioning, sorcerors and necromancers wielded dangerous power in the shadows. Thaumaturges and martial artists blended into the population even better. No one mentioned essence power, but it surged just out of sight.

One Exalt held it all at bay. Only one, and her Anathema. Oh, there were mortal occultists of various sorts, and enough of them to hold back disaster where the Slayer could not be just yet. But world-ending threats emerged when and where they were least expected. Lost artifacts, new artifacts, monsters created by mad geniuses...it never seemed to end.

Somehow the mortals thrived. The middle-weight dangers seemed to have vanished, or perhaps been pushed out of the dominant nations. Vampires might devour individual mortals like berries. At the other end of the scale, a Metagaos jouten might threaten to suck the world into its maw, though these always failed. But no dragons set whole cities aflame; no Wyldstorms mutated communities; no zombie armies emerged from Shadowlands.

Was this what the "Slayer" had done? Eliminated the middle range of threats? And that had made space for un-Exalted humanity to squeeze the small ones into hiding? It seemed plausible enough. But this was all a simulation in the endlessly-deceptive Wyld.

"This is what really happened in my world," insisted the raksha. "I'm just showing you." But he couldn't trust her, of course. She kept trying to batter at his mind and body, though so far he had held her off. Defense alone would always fail, eventually, and he lacked the power to twist the Wyld back against her.

"Why have you not gone further?" Myrrun asked. "If all the demon races were destroyed or banished, most of the existential threats to your world would end with them."

"I guess it would be too conspicuous?" the raksha guessed. "And I don't think people would put up with it. To kill all the demons faster than they could make more there'd have to be...." The raksha paused thoughtfully. "I guess I have to go ahead and call them death camps. That wouldn't go over well."

"Put them in Malfeas?" Myrrun suggested facetiously. "Or in the Wyld, or the Underworld? Surely you can hide these things as you hide everything else."

"We shouldn't," the raksha said. Morality from the Fair Folk? It must have been a game of some kind. Strange. "We keep humanity safe. No need to go further than we have to."

"Better," Myrrun said, still puzzled. "What if I explained the Five Noble Insights to you?" It would be futile, of course. How could a raksha learn to follow the Way? But it might keep him sane longer to repeat the truth, for himself.

The raksha nodded. "Okay. Tell me. I'm willing to learn."

He doubted that very much.

*****

Raksi beckoned, and Tara stepped closer to her. She couldn't help it. By her calculations, this was all of Raksi, as she had hoped. Glory's warning had made her uneasy enough to merge her selves. It had to be all of her, if Raksi was no more powerful than she had seen. And at worst, if it turned out Raksi had one remaining body, it would be weaker than Tara. "Glorificus says you're plotting against me. I'm terribly disappointed." Her words tugged at Tara's heart, all but breaking it. "I have to be sure you're not going to try to betray me. So."

"Glory didn't understand me," Tara whimpered pitifully. "I c-could n-never hurt you, noble Queen of Fangs. I wanted to show you how t-to reach other worlds. I've worked out how. I c-could take you to mine, I know how valuable that would be to you."

Raksi stood and strode over to her. "Your world. Where the dead can be made alive." Her eyes gleamed. "You can show me this. These wonders, even though they may be few, that even the Solars failed at."

"Yes," Tara said weakly. "I can d-do that. From here. New Sperimen is Elsewhere, outside the Loom."

Raksi's nails raked her neck. "Show me. Show me the path to your other world. I will give you rewards beyond all imagining, Glamorous Alabaster Sorceress. Show me." Raksi's lips brushed hers.

Tara breathed deeply. She had to be calm. "From the center of the room," she said, and made herself walk there. "The geomancy resonates here. Are you sure this is all of you? Losing contact with yourself m-might be b-bad."

"I am all here," Raksi said, breathing heavily in anticipation. " _Do it._ "

Tara spoke the word, and the green portal coiled open before her just as she had hoped. She had feared she wasn't smart enough to match Fred, even as an Exalt. "Hold m-my hand?"

Together they stepped through the portal, and Raksi's eyes gleamed with wonder and greed as she stared at the towers that scraped the sky itself. "It's...it's beautiful. You didn't describe half of it. This is a wonderful gift, Tara Maclay."

Tara forced her mouth to open. "Om? Do you remember me? Tara? This is my friend Raksi."

I REMEMBER YOU. YOUR SOUL IS THAT OF THE TRANSCENDENT ARCHITECT. WELCOME, TARA. WELCOME, RAKSI. The crystal city thrummed. Raksi peered uncertainly at its spires.

This was the moment of truth. "Om, my friend is a danger to herself and other people. I need your help to confine her." Raksi's head snapped around, her mouth open. "Be careful. She's very powerful and her mind is unwell."

OF COURSE, TARA. I WILL HEAL HER IF AT ALL POSSIBLE. IF NOT I WILL KEEP HER IN SAFETY AND SEEK FURTHER HELP.

"You _bitch_!" Raksi leapt at her, transforming as she flashed through the air. Her jaw stretched out into a muzzle full of sharp teeth. "You ungrateful bitch!" Crystal golems caught her in midleap. She shattered them, but more emerged from the walls faster than she could destroy them, until she was buried in a swarm of moving statues.

Tara bit her lip, fighting the urge to fall to her knees and beg forgiveness, to plead with Om to let her lover free. It was for the best. Raksi needed more help than Tara alone could give. "Tara! Please! Stop this, Tara! I love you!"

Tears blurred Tara's vision. "I love you t-too, Raksi. I'm so sorry."

"Tara, I'm pr-mmph!" Raksi pried an arm off her muzzle. "I'm carrying your child, Tara! Stop th--!" The crystalline robots sealed her behind a massive golden door, cutting off her screams.

IS THAT TRUE, TARA? THIS MUST BE VERY DIFFICULT FOR YOU.

Tears streamed down Tara's face. "It c-could be. I d-don't know. Can you tell if she's...if..."

RAKSI IS INDEED PREGNANT, TARA. I CANNOT CONFIRM THE PARENTAGE AT THIS STAGE.

"Goddess, I...I d-don't even know if I want to know." She buried her face in her hands. "Keep them safe. Do what you can for her, Om. I...I have to go."

OF COURSE, TARA.

Difficult? Om had no idea.

*****

"I can't release her, Xander, not till we've confirmed that she's free of further programming." Fred turned away from the video feed of Anya's cell. "I hope you understand."

Alexander rubbed his chest where the stab wound had been. "No, I've got no objections. I feel bad for her but I absolutely agree that we can't risk letting her loose right now. Anya's always been pretty scary."

"So I guess the wedding's delayed again," Mnemon muttered. "Buffy, is this how matters usually run with your friends?"

"Well, somebody does tend to go evil at least once a year," Buffy acknowledged. "Anya kind of had her turn at the start, though, when she was gettibg over being a demon."

"Also weird stuff happens to someone at least once a month," Xander said. "Getting split in two or turned invisible. Love spells, rat transformations, you name it, we've done it."

"Will you be able to confirm her state of mind any time soon?" Mnemon asked. "Or do we need to have someone else officiate?"

"I don't know any easy way of doing that," Fred said unhappily, "but I'm sure there is one. I'll consult with Towers of Azure."

"If you need someone," Sulumor said, "I shall volunteer. But I'm not sure my ceremonies would be appreciated."

"Yeah, no," Buffy said. "I'm concerned we'd have to eat the guests."

"How do ya mean 'eat'?" Cearr asked. Cyan, Buffy, and Mnemon all gave him a level glare. "Forget I asked."

*****

The sun was setting behind Willow as she trudged the last few yards up to the towers of lost Sperimen, and the jungle rang with the calls of crickets and birds and frogs. "They say Raksi rules here," Willow said. "I was afraid it was her."

"I don't suppose she has anything decent on the menu?" Green Aurora asked. Willow met her eyes but said nothing. "My stomach's been making noise for hours."

"We'll kill some food in a bit if we need to," Willow said, and didn't bring up what Raksi might have to eat, what with the sudden distraction of two figures walking out of the tangle of vines that hung from the ceremonial gateway. One was Tara, and Willow broke into a run. She didn't stop on seeing that Glory was the other, just flung her arms around her girl. "Eugh," Glorificus said, and shied away from them as Tara kissed Willow full on the lips.

But the kiss was brief, and Tara sagged down onto a tangle of vines. "Tare, sweetie, what's wrong?"

Tara begin to laugh, even as tears rolled down her cheeks. Willow's heart rose into her throat, but Tara's laughter slowed after a moment, declining into a hitch in her breathing. "I'm sorry, Willow...I didn't mean...." She stopped and began again. "Welcome to the campus of Sperimen. Registration is open for the new semester and tuition...tuition is free. And I guess...I guess I'm the new Queen of Fangs."


	29. She Looked Down to Camelot

Waves of dark power rolled off the blonde at the computer as she popped her gum. Every time the download slowed she glanced to the left to read from a dusty tome. Prudence Maclay edged close enough to see a title along the top border: Necronomicon. She shuddered and backed off. "So," Harmony Kendall said, "you want the good news or the weird news?"

"Good news first," Prudence said. No bad news, at least.

"You have three sisters. Congratulations! Birth name Halliwell, doesn't ring any bells for me. Piper, Phoebe, and Paige, in that order. Cute theme!"

"What's the weird news?" The Necronomicon drew her eyes back, but Prudence refused to look. That thing had a reputation.

"All recorded as adopted by different parents on different dates. But look at the names." She pointed a pink nail at the screen.

"Piper Maclay. Phoebe Maclay. Paige Maclay." Prudence scowled. "I've never been any good at the technopagan thing. How'd you find this? What the hell's it mean?"

Harmony made a cute little pout. "That's the bad news. The really bad news. Are you sure you want to know?"

"No," Prudence said. "Tell me anyway."

**Chapter 86--She Looked Down to Camelot**

"Anya."

The name cut through her focus. "Anya, are you okay?"

Anya raised red eyes to look at...Mnemon? Why would Mnemon come to see her? Maybe it was a Lunar. She pretended to believe. "Not completely. Are you worried about the wedding?"

"Somewhat. I'm more concerned about what could make a Sidereal elder betray her husband."

Anya snorted. "Kejak. And I'm no elder, not really. I'm old enough, I have the experience in a lot of ways, but I can't back it up yet with power. Chejop got in my head because I didn't even know how to swear loyalty to Righteous Tsunami's policies when he did it."

"And you do now?" Mnemon sat down outside the cell, studying her.

"Committee policy says no favoring one faction over another, all activity focused on opposing Creation's enemies, and otherwise stay out of national infighting. Killing the Admiral of Luthe would violate that." Anya tilted her head to study Mnemon in return. "Why are you so interested in me?"

"How did you get to be friends with people a millennium younger than you?" Mnemon's tone was curious and absolutely frank. Anya respected that. "Buffy and I get along rather well, now that we're not fighting a war. But that doesn't mean she's not just out of her childhood. The rest of you as well...except for you."

Anya nodded. The smile on her face was too big; it probably looked smug. She tried to fix it. "I grew up in a world not that different from parts of your North, a bit more advanced here and there. And then I checked out of that world while it changed. I'd say it was different for you, except that the Scoobies really are from a different world from you. They don't believe the same things. Their technology's different, their culture is different....and if you want to live in their world, you're gonna have to let them guide you. The difference is, they have to live in your world too. So you're gonna have to guide them just as much. They're not afraid of Anathema, or being Anathema. They don't look up to the Dragon-Blooded, they don't venerate their ancestors or most of your gods. In fact, they're used to being told to worship whoever they want."

"I wondered about Buffy's new religious laws," Mnemon said, measuring her words. "I thought they were a stealthy method of introducing Yozi-worship."

"I'm sure they are, a little--just enough that the Yozis don't complain." Anya stood and began to pace up and down the cell. "There's one big difference. When I went back to being human, I turned into a teenager again physically and metaphysically. Some things, like my hormones--and by that I mean my sex drive--reverted to the way they used to be. And...parts of the created identity I had turned real. Just enough that I had a little documentation and a place to live. In some ways it's as if I'm a different person, not just from Anyanka, but from Aud, too. Am I oversharing?"

"Normally I think I'd say yes," Mnemon chuckled, "but not right now. So...in this other world, demons are...what? Citizens? Persecuted? Buffy's policies on the subject baffle me "

A pair of pelagothrope guards strolled in. Anya pointed at Mnemon, covered her eyes, and pressed herself against the wall by the door. "Pardon, Great Lady, but it seems to me there was a prisoner in this cell block."

"I have seen no prisoner," Mnemon said coolly.

"Guess there was a screw-up," the other guard said. They left hastily, muttering about paperwork.

Anya stepped away from the wall, easily cracked the lock, and stepped out. "Complicated," she said. "Buffy's stance on demons is complicated."

*****

Phoebe Austine toiled away in her little cubby of an office. With no calls or appointments pending, she struggled with lyrics instead. Normally she was so good at this! But today the words came out in fragmented segments, and with far too much relation to her. _Only then I am human; only then I am clean._. Who was she kidding? She was a Maclay woman. She'd never be clean. She'd never be _human_ , even.

Her pen halted and her eyes widened. She'd meant to write _If the heavens ever did speak, he's their last true mouthpiece._ It was an iffy sentiment, but it might go over in the right context. Except she'd written _I'm_ , not _he's_. Phoebe made a strangled sound in her throat and scribbled out the blasphemy. That was it for songwriting today. She didn't have her head in the right spot for it.

The phone rang. It was her job to get it, but right now she wanted to let it go to voice mail. "Austine Ministries? Please, I really need to talk to you."

That usually meant someone looking for healing or exorcism. She'd been adept at reading people from the beginning, which was how she got this job. She answered as neutrally as possible, "What sort of assistance are you looking for?"

"We're trying to cast out a demon," said the voice on the other end. That was a perfectly normal thing for the ministry to deal with, so why did it give her such bad vibes? "We need to meet with you as soon as possible."

"I take it this isn't a case that can wait for broadcast services." That was fine, and they would bring in cameras. A possession case that could wait was usually fake anyway.

"No, no, definitely not. Can we meet within the hour?" The vocal strain was real, at least.

Phoebe nodded, though of course they couldn't see it. "Within the hour, or at your earliest convenience. You know where the stadium is?"

They said yes and hung up. Phoebe called for a security detail--they'd need that no matter if the case was real. She really preferred doing healings on live television, though. It showed the power of God, and she always felt better with a chance to dance in the Holy Spirit first. But good works often couldn't wait.

Then she called Joe. Her husband trusted her more than the main branch of the family would, but even he believed she had to maintain a delicate balance to avoid having the Spirit of God taken from her and being wholly damned at once. She wouldn't think of performing an exorcism without him.

*****

Buffy squeezed her eyes shut and inhaled. "Done," she said in a strained voice. "Going to get married with a parasite in me."

"Just like that?" Shadow asked.

"Just like that," Buffy agreed. "Not that I haven't been thinking about it for a while now. If I'm not ready for it as a ruling monarch about to marry, when will I ever be?"

Shadow smirked at that. "Good way to look at it. You sure won't need child support."

"I'm still a little scared. My daughter's going to inherit some of my powers for sure." She returned a rueful grin to her double. "Imagine if she has Slayer strength as a toddler."

"You're right," Shadow said, "that sounds like a real ton of fun. I guess I'll have to be your kids' aunt. I'm not supposed to have kids of my own."

"I bet you will anyway," Buffy told her. "If there's really a way to turn Abyssals into Solars, you'll find it."

Shadow crouched down and patted Buffy on the tummy. "Hey. I know you just started in there, but go easy on mommy, okay? Be a good girl." Then the pair of Buffys burst into shared laughter. "Now we just have to make sure the Silver Prince bites it so she can grow up safe." So soon after the laughter, Buffy couldn't understand how her twin's tone was so hard and cold.

*****

Buffybot began to choke and cough. Immediately Lorne was there to pat her on the back, wondering why humans had such vulnerable tracheas and why Buffybot would emulate that little feature-slash-bug. Had he ever even seen her do this before? "You all right, Call?" He hoped she got the reference.

Buffybot hacked some more, but her vocal processors weren't dependent on her throat being clear. "I have...components or...something...trying to escape from my body. I don't know what they are exactly." Even as she spoke, wooden marionette legs forced their way out of her mouth. "What's happening?"

Lorne turned his head left, then right, in an ultra-slow shake. "You have got me there," he admitted. He took hold of the marionette legs and pulled. Buffybot emitted a loud groan, almost as if she were giving birth, and the puppet emerged fully, finishing with a round but highly-detailed wooden head.

The marionette opened its mouth and began to wail like an infant. Buffybot's eyes widened in alarm as she caught it in her arms. "What does it want? I can't feed it!"

Lorne leaned over the crying...thing. "Aww. Poor baby. Coochy-coo!" He tickled the wooden torso. To Buffybot's amazement, the puppet began to calm. "He just needs some loving, mama. Don't ask me what's going on, cause this dancing greenie does _not_ know the score, but...he's a baby. Snuggle 'im."

Buffybot cuddled the puppet to her chest. Sure enough, the screeching faded rapidly into happy gurgles. "I can't be a mother, Lorne. I'm a robot! How do I...anything?"

Lorne threw up his hands. "Check Yahoo? Do I look like I've got kids?"

Buffybot made a sad face. The puppet reached up fleshless limbs and tickled her under the chin. The pout faded. How could she be sad about _that_?

*****

"I don't know magical materials," Alexander said as loud as he could manage. The din of construction nearly swallowed his voice anyway. "I know how to build and repair things. I know weapons. The First Age artisans were great at what they did. But we are not them!

"The First Age built ships for the Exalted! They are better than anything that ever sailed my Earth's oceans...individually. But there's a problem. Only the Exalted can run them effectively. Today some of those vessels are still on the seas, but they have been stripped down to the bone. Their weapons quit working. Their power systems ran down. Their control systems don't function for you.

"These ships are not like that. In some ways they're crude, sure. Their weapons aren't as powerful. They're not as durable or maneuverable. But for every Dragon-Blooded vessel on the water, ordinary people can pilot a score. For every Celestial vessel on the water--if every Celestial were even _on_ the water--you could pilot a thousand.

"With overwhelming numbers, the Dragon-Blooded destroyed Celestial rule. In the same way, you can destroy Terrestrial rule if you need to. These ships are the backbone of your fleet!

"You might be asking, why give you such a thing? Partly the answer is to mobilize everybody. The world works better when the whole world works, and there are all kinds of threats out there to defend against. But beyond that: the Exalted can make your lives better. We can be more knowledgeable and more competent than you'll ever be. But none of that makes us good, or right, or just. And without goodness, all that knowledge and all that competence only make us worse monsters. I'm giving you a chance at standing against us if we're wrong, Celestial, Terrestrial, or both. I'm giving you a good life after our fall.

"This is not my fleet! This is your fleet! You can succeed without us! You will exceed what we could be without you! This is the Third Age, and our ascent begins now!"

The roar of applause rose and rolled over the roar of the machines as if it were nothing. Alexander nudged Fred as he sat down beside her. "Was that over the top? I never can tell."

*****

Kate slammed the door open and crashed into the room. Right. Left, behind the door. Shoat shot in behind her, gun pointing _up_. Wasn't remotely nuts these days. Riley and Sam were next, peeling off into the next rooms, checking behind the sofas.

"Can't believe we're doing this for some Chik-Fil-A manager," Riley muttered. "What's her name again, Piper? Who names their kid Piper?"

Shoat giggled, but then added more seriously, " _I_ think it's a cute name."

"We're doing it because people are worth helping," Kate said, biting off her words irritably, "and because someone is handing out magic radiation poisoning and we need to find out who."

"Well, we're not learning anything here," Sam said mournfully from a door to the left. "We're too late."

Shoat pushed past her into the bathroom, where a barely-recognizable corpse sprawled over the toilet, skin covered in bloody blisters. She rolled the woman over, blackened gore still leaking from the body's mouth onto the porcelain. "Aw, poop," the tween muttered, "she's still barely alive, but I don't think any of us can save her. Her guts are pretty much goo."

"And she's been vomiting them up?" Riley looked a bit green.

Suddenly Shoat narrowed her eyes and shook the dying woman. "No! It's not worth it! Don't listen to it!" She didn't even have the last phrase out when a dead-black bruise like a half-open eye melted into being on the woman's forehead. Purple energy radiated from her like a cloak shaken by the wind, and a triangular symbol with interior curves shone darkly behind her for a moment. The blisters smoothed over, fading into milky-white skin. Her hair grew long and glossy brown. Only her eyes remained cataract-white, and from the way she blinked them at Shoat, then stared, her vision was unimpaired.

"It said I didn't have to die," Piper said, and put a hand to her throat as if unfamiliar with the musical tone of her voice. "Seems like a good deal to me."

Kate made a disgusted noise in her throat. "What's done is done. Come on. You've got a sister to meet." She didn't seem to notice the horror in Shoat's eyes.

*****

"I hope Willow and Tara are all right," Fred said to Anya, watching the new fleet slide into open water. "It's been days."

"There's no telling where they were going," Anya reminded her. "It's not like Tara left a note. For all we know, Tara will come back in the shape of the wooly mammoth she wanted to hunt. I do hope Willow found her, though."

"Tara would've left a message if it were something like that," Fred argued. The steel belly of a battleship scraped the bottom of the hatch, filling the water with a grating noise she could feel. "She's the responsible one."

"Oh, yes, that's what we all used to say about Willow," Anya said with no obvious affect. "She was too responsible to do anything foolish with magic. Cough, 'I will it', cough. Power changes people."

"Including you?" Fred asked.

Anya laughed out loud. "Especially me. Don't forget who you're talking to. Look, Tara's generation of paganism doesn't remember the Middle Ages. They have this idea of nature as cute and cuddly, like a...a...."

"A fuzzy bunny?"

Anya laughed nervously. "Yes. That is the perfect image. Nature is terrifying and cruel and civilized humans set out to kill it for a reason. Now that she's living the one-with-nature dream, Tara's got a choice: try to remake nature in her idealized image, or accept it as what it is, monstrous. And herself with it. I'd have figured on the former, but hey, who am I to complain if she goes for the eviscerations?"

Fred clammed up and watched the ships go by. That didn't seem like Tara, but she remembered Pylea. Remembered that first week of eating berries and wondering whether hunger or toxins would kill her first. The success of a snare trap--she'd heard they were inhumane, and the squealing weasel-thing had proven it, but she'd been too hungry to care. Stealing small chicken-lizards from the farms, growing slowly bolder. If she'd Exalted there, what would she have done?

Tara had come from a different kind of desperation, but she would certainly understand. No wonder she feared power. She knew what people did with it, and she knew what she could. Most of all, she knew herself.

Was it possible that it wasn't Willow she was afraid of at all?

*****

Beth Maclay strolled into the ministry building unopposed. Nursery, kids' classes, adult classes, studio room, offices...sanctuary access. Some people might want to wait till services were over, and she understood the impulse not to profane the room with violence. But really. This was the Lord's work, and it was time for an end to secrecy.

She took a knife from the kitchens. People might be looking for some kind of horrible radioactive weapon, but this was all she needed. God's fire of judgement came from her, not from any material blade.

Beth paused at the back of the sanctuary. The worshippers were "dancing in the Spirit". Sometimes such things were real, but she knew that wasn't the case right now, because there was a Maclay woman leading them. The Holy Spirit had nothing to do with Maclay women. Herself excluded, of course. Phoebe Austine was a demon infiltrator, poisoning the whole ministry. Joseph Langstrat Austine was a fool. Anyone should be able to see from Phoebe's ecstatic expression that she was a sensualist, not a woman of God.

Beth Maclay put her hands over her head and danced through the crowd, making her way up the aisle, her knife stuck through her belt. No one would see until she was too close for the witch to escape. She had planned all this out, as God demanded as part of the price of her empowerment. And halfway up the aisle, she came to a sudden halt as a young woman with dark brown hair dropped from the ceiling, scalloped dagger outstretched. Who--?

Phoebe spun in place before the stranger could reach her, as if she had somehow seen what Beth had missed. That was impossible, of course. She was a demon, but Beth was empowered by the Almighty himself. Phoebe's leg scythed up, and the dagger was knocked from the stranger's hand. Phoebe's leg scythed down, and the stranger slammed into a pew. Still, she was up in an instant, and Phoebe seemed as confused about what had happened as Beth was.

The brunette sneered. "If that's all you've got, witch, you might as well give up now." Was she also an agent of God?

Beth drew her knife and set it ablaze with hellfire, catching the other's eye, but Phoebe's as well. "God has sent your judgement, Phoebe Maclay. Don't think to escape." The strange brunette stared at her, but they moved forward as one. God was with them both.

"Freeze!" The dancing had already begun to disintegrate; now it fell apart entirely as a muscular blonde set herself and pulled out a service revolver. "Sorry to interrupt a worship service, but I'm pretty sure there's a commandment against murder. Faith, what are you doing?"

Faith? But the brunette seemed as confused by the name as Beth was startled. "I have a witch to kill," she said, "for God and my earthly father Daniel Holtz. If you're here to stop me--" A bullet thudded into a songbook she'd whipped in front of her chest. "--it'll take more than that."

A woman in a red-tinted uniform slapped a hand down on Beth's shoulder. "Nice fire. Mine's bigger." And she burst into brilliant orange flame.

"Natural fire is no match for the wrath of God," Beth snapped, and slashed at the false soldier, cutting a swath through her clothing. Still, the green flame of judgement failed to take root in her flesh, so Beth must not have actually hurt her.

It was only a matter of time.

*****

Amy hung back. The others might be comfortable here, but she really _was_ a witch. She didn't think she believed in _God_ God, but what she knew of magic suggested any god might be given strength by true believers. Whether that was what had happened with Phoebe she couldn't be sure, but the woman had somehow managed to pull off a perfect pair of kicks on Faith, even if they hadn't hurt her. Hell, the bullet didn't seem to have hurt her much.

Faith spun and slammed a flurry of her own kicks into Kate's chest, driving her back by a step or two. "Don't make me really hurt you, Faith," Kate insisted. "You can't seriously think you're Holtz' daughter. Look around you. He's from a couple of hundred years ago. You're not!" Faith just sneered and launched into another round of kicks. "He's brainwashed her somehow," Kate grumbled.

Amy saw it too, though she wasn't certain how. It was simply obvious: Faith wasn't herself. She had one notion how she might get Faith's attention, but it would get everyone else's here too. She didn't want that, not if she could avoid it.

The other woman, the stranger with the radioactive knife, was dueling Riley and Sam and holding her own, if only because they had no idea what she was capable of. Amy signaled to Spike, who was also hanging back--for similar reasons, no question, and he began making his way through the crowd toward Phoebe. To draw attention away from him, she reluctantly yanked the knife out of Radioactive Girl's hand with telekinesis. The woman sneered at her and shrugged as her fists burst into the same eerie green flame.

Spike was right behind Phoebe when she spun, eyes wide with shock, and flung her hands up. At least she wasn't kicking him. Instead, though, she recited, "The Lord rebuke you, demonspawn, and by his power be you gone." Spike put his hands on his hips and laughed. "By word of God depart this place. Be banished from our time and space." Amy almost burst into laughter herself...and then Phoebe made what Five called the Victory Over Primordials mudra, and Spike vanished in a burst of shredded color.

"Crap!" Amy shouted, drawing glares from everyone close enough to hear, and darted forward. "Faith, damn it, this isn't you! I promise this isn't you!" Faith rolled her eyes, leapt straight up into the air, and cracked her heel into Kate's chin, then spun to attack Amy as well.

Amy made a clutching motion that ended in a fist and yanked Faith forward faster than she could move on her own. Faith collided with her face to face, and Amy ignored the pain of impact to lock lips with her. Faith wrenched herself away, spluttering and spitting...then halted, seized Amy by the shoulders, and kissed her back.

"What the hell happened?" Faith asked. Everyone in the building was glaring at them now. This was no good. This was no good at all.


	30. Out Flew the Web and Floated Wide

They'd never made it this far before.

"Mercury, do you take this god to be your lawfully-wedded husband, to be your true companion in life's journey?"

"I do."

Her heart was thumping as fast as any mortal's, and she was the Maiden of Serenity. They'd never made it this far before!

"Venus, do you take this god to be your lawfully-wedded husband, in joy and in triumph?"

"I do." By samsara!

Luna had gotten cold feet at the last moment--jealousy? surely not--and some Eclipse named Swan was filling in. "Mars, do you take this god to be your lawfully-wedded husband, to guard your back in victory and defeat?"

"I do." They'd never made it this far before! By the titans, she was going to have a stroke!

"Jupiter, do you take this god to be your lawfully-wedded husband, till all things be revealed?"

"I do."

Something had to go wrong. Something had to go wrong. Something-- "Saturn, do you take this god to be your lawfully-wedded husband, till death do you part?"

This was it. Saturn always broke it off, and this was her last-- "I do."

"Then by the power vested in me, I pronounce you married. You may kiss."

By Gaia! This was...was....

Ignis kissed her, and serenity fled even her.

**Chapter 87--Out Flew the Web and Floated Wide**

Suddenly Faith wasn't Faith Holtz, raised under the stern but loving guidance of her father Daniel and mother Justine in the living city of Sively Loss. She was Faith Lehane, delinquent daughter of a drunken mom and a vanished deadbeat dad, raised in the slums of South Boston till she'd been stumbled upon by Diana Dormer, her first Watcher.

She was being soundly kissed by her girlfriend(!) Amy Madison, a vile abomination of an action she should be ashamed of and pissed off by. Hell no! It was a good kiss and she returned it with gusto.

Some asshole had torn up her memories and replaced them with lies. Pretty lies, sure, but they'd turned her into one hell of a bitch. She was on a mission to kill a demon witch named Phoebe who...probably was just some chick trying to have a decent life. Wait. No. Scratch that, she'd put Faith flat on her back, then disintegrated Spike with some kind of exorcism chant. Maybe she _was_ a witch. And a televangelist's assistant. Those dudes were all hypocrites anyway.

That was a lot to realize during a kiss. At least the other girl who'd come out of nowhere was being schooled by Riley and Sam. Sarah. Where was Sarah Holtz? She was supposed to be on this mission as backup. Of course, she was a shapeshifter; she might be a fly on the wall.

Everyone in the room was glaring. Because she was on a televangelist's show. Got it. And Phoebe let fly with a roundhouse kick. Got that too. Faith flung the foot upwards, only for Phoebe to cartwheel over and land on her feet. She was better than any regular mortal ought to be; Faith couldn't make it click.

The doors burst open and vampires poured into the room. "Backup!" Harmony called out cheerily, caste mark burning baleful red on her forehead. "Go get 'em, team! No killing!" Faith's eyes opened wider as she saw Sarah struggling in the grip of four burly vampires. Harmony had all these vamps under her control at once! Faith didn't give a fuck about the nature of her powers, so long as they worked like she wanted--she'd use poison, magic devices, even spells if they'd work for her. She gave Harm a round of applause. The cheerleader was searching all around, though. "Where's blondie-bear?"

Crap. "He just got wiped out, Harm. At least that's what it looked like."

"I sent him back to hell where he belongs," Phoebe growled. She couldn't sound very menacing, though.

Harmony, on the other hand...who said humans didn't have a game face? Her expression twisted with fury, and she hauled Phoebe up by the collar. "We came here to save your butt. Come with us quietly and maybe I won't beat you to a pulp. If he's dead--"

"He's not dead, Harm," Amy said hastily. "She banished him from Earth, okay? We can get him back."

"We'd better get him back," Harmony snapped. "In one piece, too."

She shoved Phoebe in front of her, Sam doubled the arm of Green Fire Girl behind her, and Faith scanned around for any sign of more Holtzes. Nothing. "Time to jet," she told Amy. "Before the rest of my backup shows."

*****

"Oi!" Spike's shout echoed through the crystal columns. "Where the hell'd you put me?"

Only a childish giggle answered. Running feet skittered across the floor. Spike chased after--he should be faster than any normal child--but found himself running in circles.

"Hell, did you say?" called a little girl's voice. "Good guess."

"Olly olly oxen free, Claudia," Spike grumbled. "What kind of hell is this, the Hell of Obnoxious Brats?"

"Oh, that's a good one." There she was, sitting at a table, rolling a little cage about. "My name is Mesekhtet, and this is... _was_ the White Room. Amy's training is coming along nicely."

"Well, Messy," Spike said, settling onto his haunches, "what'd you bring me here for?"

Mesekhtet dropped from the chair and approached him, as he'd hoped. "This is simply a nearby hell dimension. There's no single Malfeas any longer to banish you to. Phoebe sent you here, though I doubt she chose it. Still, it's time we talked. You need to meet my grandpa."

"And who would that be?" Spike said patiently, pretending to gaze about and ignore the girl.

"Not the Ebon Dragon, of course. He's dead. You need to meet Ra."

Spike snorted as she stepped closer. "Hoping you mean the alien from the movie. The other fellow an' I aren't exactly best of friends."

"More than you know," Mesekhtet said, dancing suddenly out of reach again. "But you won't believe me till you meet him."

"Messy, the sun an' me're never gonna get along." He shifted forward, pretending to be uncomfortable.

"Stop calling me Messy," the girl said petulantly. "And don't think you're going to capture me. I'm so far beyond you that--" Something behind her shifted--the cage had tipped over and was rolling off the table. She spun, Spike hurled his left shoe past her head to keep her distracted, and lunged as she continued to spin. Now he was a hair off-balance, but that hardly mattered to a vampire.

Spike slammed into Messy, seized the table leg, and yanked. The leg shattered, the table fell atop her, and he dodged aside as the edge pinned her to the floor. Plates and cups rained down around them, and the cage burst open, releasing a tiny woman who scurried off into the shadows. Eh. Nothing to concern him.

"You'll...be...sor-ry," Messy said. "Not just for inconveniencing me, though that's bad enough. Catherine's escaped, you see. Amy won't be pleased. Now will you please do as I ask?"

"If you tell me--"

"Spike, I'm not remotely concerned by this disruption." She shoved the table away. "It's annoying and no more. I'm asking you to do yourself a favor. Drusilla's life may depend on it, if that means anything to you."

That gave him a turn. But she couldn't fool him. "I miss Dru, but if she's about, she's working with Lilah. And if she's helping Madam President, she's playing with fire and knows it."

"She's human," Messy said. "And I guarantee she's not helping Lilah right now."

*****

"Easy, easy, easy as pie," Drusilla sang, carrying furniture from one side of the Mound of Forsaken Seeds to the other. "All you need do is tease the worlds until they kiss. When they lock lips, locked they will stay until you pull them apart."

"And now what?" the Dowager said, pointing to the Shoat of the Mire. She only ever had one Shoat at a time, which made Drusilla giggle. If she died, the Dowager would make another. "There is more, I'm certain. Tell her what to do."

"Sing, dearie, sing," and Drusilla reached out and tickled the poor child. "If you don't sing, I can't make the pain stop."

"Will it really stop when the world dies?" The Shoat whispered the words with a fragile tremor.

Drusilla fixed her gaze and nodded. "And so I'm here to help your mum find her way where she belongs. Existence and nothing will balance and the world will go out, bang! Like a candle. How does that sound?"

"Lovely," the Shoat of the Mire breathed, her eyes dull and vacant. She sang a simple, lifeless scale. Drusilla bent down and kissed the poor creature on the forehead.

"Try and sing a little more sweetly, baby bird," she teased, and rubbed her back. "It'll make things better. 'Just a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down, medicine go down'--"

The Dowager sneered and stalked away. "When you're ready to teach me something more, call for me. Shoat, the lady is mad, though sometimes useful. You needn't listen to her."

Drusilla made a little tsking sound. "Try again, dearie. 'Just a spoonful of sugar....'"

Soon Shoat was singing along.

*****

Tara gave Willow one final hug. "It's time for you to get moving, sweetie."

"You're sure you can't come with me?" Tears welled up in sunken eyes.

Tara drew a deep breath. "Raksi ruled this place by fear and division. Right now, I'm the only thing keeping the people from tearing each other to pieces. If you somehow needed me to beat the Silver Prince it'd be different, but I'm nothing special as Exalted go, not yet. You're sure you want Green Aurora to stay?"

"I'm hoping some diversity'll teach her manners," Willow said thoughtfully. "If she starts encouraging cannibalism instead, I...you should put her down. There are cultures even more toxic than Raksi's out there, if you can believe that."

Tara narrowed her eyes into a stubborn frown. "I don't--"

"Listen to me," Willow said, trying her resolve face, "her people eat other humans who don't look like them and make it a ritual so their ghosts are enslaved forever and ever. I'm thinking about learning necromancy _just to find a way to free them_. It's that bad."

Tara had to take a moment to absorb that fully. "Do it," she said at last.

"I know you won't approve, Tare, but I just...wait, what?"

Tara put a hand on each of Willow's shoulders and gripped them hard. "Learn what you need to learn. Short of ending the world...or some other disaster, I guess...learn enough necromancy to free them. Be smart about it. Don't fling it around like a toy. But don't be afraid of just having it."

"I hadn't realized you'd feel that way about it," Willow murmured.

Somehow Tara's shrug conveyed serene self-knowledge rather than confusion. "I've learned a lot, Willow. But even before coming here, I understood that magic is a tool. Sometimes it's a dangerous tool. Sometimes it's a temptation. But you can't stand back and let people suffer because you're afraid."

"Even when it means using dark magic?" Willow was plainly struggling.

"But it's not," Tara said. "And no, I d-don't think I'd have said that before. It is necromancy. But you're not talking about killing people or making them suffer. You're not talking about damaging the world. You're talking about freeing people from slavery. So unless there's some horrible unfair p-price...I d-don't think it's dark magic at all."

She seemed to have given Willow a lot to think about. They kissed, and then Tara watched her fly away in one of Raksi's invented aircraft. Tara turned to Green Aurora. "Report to the fields at the college of agriculture. You're on hard labor. If I hear that you've killed or eaten anyone, I'll execute you personally." The Varajtul opened her mouth to protest. "And if I hear even a rumor that you're teaching your d-disgusting rituals, I'll use them on _you_."

"You wouldn't dare," Green Aurora began.

"You'd be surprised what I'd d-dare," Tara forced out. "I'm not letting cannibalism take root here after I overthrew Raksi to stop it." Tara fought back tears. Her emotions for Raksi weren't any weaker for having been forced on her, and she hadn't even begun figuring out what to do if Raksi's child was hers. "Go, before I do something to you anyway." The Varajtul went.

Tara turned and re-entered the tower, where Glory was waiting for her. "Stay as long as you want," Tara said, struggling to keep her voice firm, "as long as you follow the rules. Break the rules, and you'll find out just how scary I can be when I've got to." Of course, they'd be finding it out together, but Glory just strolled quickly away. It was the same walk she'd used around Raksi.

Tara went into the elevator, one of the few bits of technology Raksi had kept in working order, and ascended to the top floor. The Keeper manifested before her in its accustomed origami form. "Are you here to peruse the Book of Three Circles once more?" Raksi had made the Keeper allow her access so she could study properly. She nodded. "Do you prefer the first or second volume?"

Tara hesitated. "You didn't let me touch the second volume before."

The Keeper nodded. "Indeed not. You were incapable of using it before. I'm not certain what about you has changed, yet it has."

She almost told him to just let her see the first volume again, but then that'd be sort of hypocritical, wouldn't it? "Let me see volume two."

*****

"Any progress, Mister T?" Faith put speakerphone on. She wanted everyone to hear who was in charge now.

"I must insist--" spluttered Quentin Travers.

"You must answer my question," Faith said firmly. "Any...progress?"

"She's on her way back from Australia right now. She's a Watcher on a field trip with her charge. If you like, I'll give you her number."

"A Watcher, huh?"

"In the old days," T explained, "Potentials who were never called were often married off to senior Council members, or later made secretaries and other such menial positions. You see that changes _have_ been made."

"Yeah, I get it, Mr. T. Call 'er up." Travers gave her Paige's cell, and moments later Faith was connected to a cruise ship off Brisbane. "Paige Maclay?"

"My personal trainer's in the head. I'm Kennedy. Who's calling?"

"New head a' the Council, Faith Lehane. _Slayer._ Listen up. There's a chopper on the way, take you both t'the nearest airport. From there you fly to L.A." The snot-nosed rich brat--she knew East Coast old money when she heard it--kept trying to get a word in edgewise. "Important Council business. It's about your Watcher--yeah, I know what she is--but if you're flagged as a potential Slayer it can't hurt to have you come in too." She and Kendra had both been caught young, only to Exalt as something else. Faith figured a Potential was a Potential _Exalt_ , maybe written up by destiny somehow. "She makes noise, you tell her to call me back. Got it? Good." Faith hung up.

Now to call in that copter.

*****

"So who are you people anyway?" Phoebe studied the holding cell. It contained a table and four chairs, and not much else but the three dark-haired women, one with a face still pocked from some horrible illness.

"Sisters," that one said, and coughed croupily. "At least that's what they told me. I'm Prudence Maclay. I'm an art dealer."

"Piper Maclay," said the one with the white eyes. Aside from those, she seemed like the healthiest of the three; there was something...ageless about her, and she was definitely pretty. "Fry cook turned fast-food manager. Peak of my career so far. And...I think they think we're superheroes, like them."

Phoebe laughed bitterly. "Phoebe Austine, maiden name Maclay. We're demons, all three of us. I guess they are too. All Maclay women are. That's where the magic comes from."

Piper shuddered visibly, but Prudence gave her head a vehement shake. "That's a lie they tell us to keep us under control. Anyone can do a little magic if they bother learning. Some people can learn more. Like us."

"Because we're demons," Piper said in a faint voice.

"No," Prudence insisted. "Not--"

Piper flung up her hands as if she wanted to shove Prudence away, or maybe strangle her. The table between them shivered with cracks that spread and grew, the gaps between them suffused with queasy grey light, spread until they covered the entire table. With a soundless burst of light, the table puffed into foul-smelling black dust.

Phoebe laughed, a harsh cackling sound even in her own ears. "No, we're definitely the good guys here."

"We're not demons," Prudence stated flatly, persisting in the face of contrary evidence. "That was destructive, but it wasn't evil. You could use that on a gun, or a tumor."

"Okay," Piper said, "then who was the lady with the face full of worms who made me not die? An angel?"

Prudence just stared, and Phoebe smirked at her. Of course she didn't have an answer to _that_.

*****

"I know the gate. I am the gate. I am the key and guardian of the gate," Dawn said. "I was the Thought of Ea Gso, and I have returned."

SubMachine Gun leapt up and hugged her. "I thought you'd abandoned us! The Herald came and went and we still didn't get to leave!"

"The time is almost here," Dawn explained. "Just not quite yet. And I need to be certain you're ready, okay?"

"We're totally ready!" Multifocal Motor Neuropathy effused. "Is it time yet?"

"I don't think you're understanding her properly," Entertaining Comics warned.

"It's all right," Dawn said. "I see she knows what she needs to know. The rest of you need to verify it for me, though."

"But it is time?" Alternate History asked. "I just want confirmation."

"Yes," Dawn said. "After seven hundred years, the Crusade is about to resume. I'm going to lead the assault myself. Are you ready?"

The roar would have been deafening if she had real ears.


	31. The Mirror Cracked From Side to Side

Karal Linwei looked down from the camp toward the ruined city of Thorns. Not that Thorns was empty, of course--its people continued to survive in that benighted place--but the Mask of Winters had wrecked it all the same. Privately, the Taimyo of the First Field Force suspected that even if the Deathlord could be overthrown, Thorns would never belong to the living again.

"Taimyo!"

"I see it, kazei. Keep your post." A lone figure was advancing from among the dead legions that ringed the city, a being somewhat larger than a grown man. She could see little more, but at the limit of her vision, she believed the approaching creature was blue. "Signal the scouts to intercept."

Banners flashed, sigils flared, and an advance detachment burst from cover beside the road, signaling the lone figure to halt. The blue person failed to do so, so the riders opened fire with their shortbows. Still it walked on unhesitatingly.

"Close," Linwei ordered, and the banners relayed the signal again. The scout force unlimbered its swords and closed in, slicing at the seemingly-unarmored figure as they rode past.

The being seized one of the riders out of the saddle by the throat, and...

Linwei raised her binoculars to her eyes. What was happening? The blue figure leaped toward her--it was definitely a demon of some sort. The rider he had seized was wrapped in flames, thrashing. Bolts of living flame shot out from the dying soldier, connecting them to one rider after another until all of them were afire. In moments the entire fang had burned to ash.

"Don't approach him!" Linwei ordered. No need to panic. The scouts had met a terrible fate, but tactics could be adjusted to defeat such a power. "Distance weapons only. Prepare a volley."

In moments hundreds of Dragon-graced arrows were arcing towards the blue demon. They penetrated his hide, stuck there...and did exactly nothing. The demon turned his gaze toward the archers, and fire blazed from his eyes, leaping from soldier to soldier. It took only seconds to obliterate another fang.

Karal Linwei swallowed hard. "Prepare the artillery. All nonspecialist forces...get ready for strategic withdrawal." There was no shame in retreat well-executed...and this demon was clearly going to be a problem.

**Chapter 88--The Mirror Cracked From Side to Side**

"So, Anya," Buffy asked, "what do you think of my hair?" She turned, a thin smirk painted on her face. The pale yellow serpents that now sprouted from her scalp writhed slightly despite being bound together. She flexed her jet-black wings; they were itchy for use.

"It's actually very you," Anya said with a grin. "I'm so glad to see you finally embracing your demonic side. But won't it put the Terrestrials off?"

"After the Wicker Buffy incident, I've decided I don't care. I don't need to please anyone but me and Mnemon, and if this bugs her I have ways to appease her." Buffy frowned at her index finger and bent it backwards to touch her hand. It didn't hurt a bit.

Anya opened her mouth to ask what her hand had to do with Mnemon, did a double-take, and finished with, "You're even more limber than usual. Yes, she'll definitely appreciate that. What about your stamina?"

"Eh," Buffy said noncommittally. "I'm almost afraid to build that up any more than I have. The side effects--"

"Will help you keep up with Mnemon," Anya said matter-of-factly. "I strongly recommend them. Are you all right?"

Belatedly Buffy realized she was eating, and eating a chunk of wood at that. "Preggo cravings," she said. "Considering I can eat literally anything I'd call this lucky."

Anya nodded. "As long as it tastes good and doesn't damage the city. Are you sure that's all?"

Argh. Her forked, snaky tongue was flicking out. "Anya, I'm getting used to not being completely human. And I'm starting to think it'll be okay if I completely stop being human. But if I ever stop _caring_ about humans, just kill me, okay? Because I really will be gone."

Anya nodded enthusiastically. "Of course, Buffy! I will proudly eviscerate you and wear any useful parts you might have, just like in D & D."

The last bit caught Buffy off guard, and she burst into a giggle fit. And it meant Anya still hadn't caught on comp--

"What are you hiding, Buffy?"

She put her hand to her face. "The more I use my powers, the stronger I get, and the more _kinds_ of powers I get. And it's not just me learning. I think that for some reason all the Yozis in the Reclamation...want to become part of us. Me, at least, and probably the others too. At first it was just the hearthstone, but I think today I picked up something from Metagaos."

"The cross between Galactus, the Andromeda Strain, and Audrey II?"

"That's him." Buffy tried to keep a straight face at the comparison; Acathla had been a surviving Metagaos jouten, probably a forner Infernal. "I think he especially wants inside us."

Anya's expression was narrow and pained. "Be careful, Buffy. Try and balance him out."

"I will," Buffy said, still struggling to hide one more thing from Anya.

Anya smelled _delicious_.

*****

"Buffy needs an intervention," Anya warned. "Again."

"I think you're overreacting," Xander told her. The big construction bay was finally empty now that the fleet was out practicing maneuvers. The tool kits had been moved back to the walls, except for a few being used by Luthea. "Metagaos isn't any more creeptastic than the Ebon Dragon, and she uses his powers without causing problems. Except that one time, and we got her to fix that herself."

"Metagaos is the embodiment of self-indulgence," Anya said, waving her hands about. "What if she starts misusing all her powers now? One could be too many! Do you really want to wait till _Buffy_ sucks the world into hell?"

"Yeah, and apparently Chejop Kejak was the embodiment of self-righteousness and pre-emptive strikes," Xander reminded her. As if she could've forgotten that! "Are you sure this isn't another trigger?"

"No," Anya grumbled. "I'm not sure. There's no policy against interfering with Anathema or heads of state in other regions. But she's dangerous, Xander!"

"'And so am I, very dangerous'," Xander quoted. Anya wanted to strangle him. "'More dangerous than anything you will ever meet, unless you are brought alive before the seat of the Dark Lord.'"

She might have torn into him for that, except for the man coming up behind him. Cearr, Buffy had called him, and he reminded her of Olaf before he was a troll. He laughed uproariously and clapped Xander on the shoulder. "If you're half as dangerous as Buffy you're a hell of a man. The Dead Pirate Robards? Deathknight, eh?"

"Solar," Xander said. "It's 'dread', not 'dead'. But thanks."

"Hello, I'm Anya," she said, since he hadn't introduced her. "You're a Slayer. That's very amusing, but I guess you know why."

Cearr chuckled some more. "Oh yes." He held his hand about waist high, considerably shorter than the actual Buffy. "I should be so high, long hair, with tits. I know. You're doing the wedding, I heard. Buffy gets more impressive every day. Never 'spected to see her getting hitched with Mnemon but I see how it figures with the Yozis. Nothing says we gotta overrun things by force, and the Blessed Isle's a tough nut to crack. Don't you worry about her gettin' out of hand. Worry 'bout yourselves. Robards here has the right of it. Before you know it you'll be shakin' worlds."

"And what do you know about it?" Anya asked crankily. Stupid man! She should turn him into a troll. "What have you done with your powers?"

"Done the impossible," Cearr said with a smirk. "I've conquered Chaya."

Anya's eyes widened. "You're the one who-- How in the hell did you do it? The Chayans--"

"The Chayans obey their gods," Cearr said calmly. "And their gods obey me. Easy as hell. I don't even have to hang around giving orders. I just run around kicking the ass I please and every once in a while I stop by and tell Xochichem what I want outta him. I don't get their weird-ass gods, but the system suits me fine."

"You realize I have to report this to--"

"Report it!" Cearr said. "Go ahead. Nobody'll dare stop me. Not once I'm done. Chaya's always been a weird little place that's no use to anyone. Now that's over."

"Anh, he may have the right of it," Xander said, so she did the only thing she could. She flounced away.

Heaven was going to hear about this!

*****

Kate slouched against the wall. Being a Lunar was great for getting rid of body aches; your muscles and bones just took the shape you wanted them in. "So tell 'em what's up, Paige."

"We're all victims of a supernatural conspiracy," Paige Matthews said. "A literal witch hunt. The Maclay family's spent about two centuries hunting down witches and 'neutralizing' them, then adopting and marrying off their kids to make sure they never learn their heritage. We think it started with a guy named Isaac Maclay, a powerful sorceror who thought he was blessed by God. His male descendants are big figures in holy-roller type churches--faith healers, prophets, that kind of thing. His female descendants, except for a few very ultra-pious women, end up convinced they have to be prisoners in their own homes.

"I got lucky. The Watchers' Council flagged me as a potential Slayer and recruited me. They don't have the resources to profile every woman on Earth, but I've worked us up--all four of us--and we still have a destiny. I don't know what it is, but Piper's already Exalted, so I have a good guess."

"I call shenanigans," said Prudence, raising her hand. "You people said Exaltation doesn't run in families, except for the Dragon-Blooded. And we're not that. So why would four sisters all have that kind of destiny?"

Faith cut in before Kate could answer. "Shenanigans already got called. The Maclays made 'em. They were tryin' to contain you, but without thinkin' about it they bred in every magic bloodline they could find. Sure, a little demon, maybe. But also elementals, gods, ghosts, fairies, maybe even a Slayer or two. They made their own enemies. Isn't that how destiny works? And no, not every girl gets called who could. But you stand up and fight, with this big destiny behind you? There's your best shot. Right?" Kate didn't know if that was really how it worked, but it did get the sisters looking at each other thinking.

"I'm already Exalted," Piper said. "And Prudence and Phoebe know a little magic." Phoebe shook her head firmly. "What about you, Paige?"

"I stood out on the Council's radar for a reason," Paige said. "I have a different dad from the rest of you. He's a ghost." And she vanished.

*****

Knox finally looked up from the scope. "You're sure you weren't made using nanotech?"

"Pretty sure," Buffybot said. "Warren would've bragged a lot about that if he'd used it."

Knox gave a noncommittal grunt. "I know the type." He swung the screen around to show her. "I can't find any place where the parts of...that thing could have been stored. It's a mystery to me."

"My baby is not a thing," Buffybot said firmly, clutching the marionette. It was definitely made entirely of wood, yet Knox could've sworn it looked older than it had yesterday. "My baby is a baby and his name is Timmy."

"Timmy?" Knox said doubtfully. She probably didn't know about that show _Passions_. "He's, um, cute. I guess."

"Thank you," the robot said obliviously.

"Can I try and get a copy of your root programs?" Maybe he'd find some answers there.

"You can try," she said evasively. "Autochthon wrote them. I think."

"Whoever that is," Knox said with a shrug, and ran cables up to connect to her chest processors. She really was a good human facsimile. 

A warning message about viruses flashed onto the screen before vanishing. Then a face replaced it. "Yeah," said a voice from the speakers. "Good luck with that."

*****

Spike's ride on the mono was coming to an end. So far it hadn't asked for riddles or threatened to derail before Topeka, so he was probably as good as there. Decrepit decor shuddered as the ancient, empty train slowed, but with its blast shields down he could only guess they were approaching the sun. Just as he could only hope there was some kind of safe place where they could chit-chat. 

The mono creaked to a stop. Spike climbed out of the comfortable but dusty seat and made his way to the door. "Here goes," he said. The hatch popped open with a crack and a bang. For a moment the brightness was too much for him. He stood in a long shining hall, floor tiled with interlocking suns. The walls shone with images of celestial battle, and the ceiling was painted with a mural showing three titanic beings watching the Sun rise. A gleaming golden door with a sunburst rotated slowly open in a burst of steam amid the grinding of gears as he stumbled forward.

The chamber within was a mass of instruments and levers, dominated by a ship's wheel of white jade glowing with orange heat. The sole occupant turned toward him, releasing his grip on the wheel with three of four hands. The fourth was plainly prosthetic, carved from some sort of white steel; a living laurel branch wound through its components. His remaining skin was itself golden-orange, his hair a shining mane that stood out like sunbeams. Light shone all around him, though by an effort of will he seemed to cast his shadow on Spike at all times. His face was a mask of infinite weariness...and yet seeing his visitor, he smiled.

"Spike," he said.

"Bloody buggering hell," Spike answered. 

The face belonged to Angel.

*****

The Dowager was getting tired of this bloody singing! She could keep the mask up a little longer, she supposed, but it was demonstrably wearing thin. The Shoat no longer fully trusted her; she might have to Exalt another. No, not with Oblivion so close at hand.

Beside her, the Sidereal Drusilla nattered on. She understood what she was about and could explain every principle of her actions and renovations in terms of proper geomancy, but by the Abyss, she became annoying after a while!

"So although the actions of the Primordials cannot be explained in terms of destiny, even they serve a greater causality. Only the Wyld is a true unpredictable singularity...." Really. What wouldn't the Dowager give for another lecture on the proper care of dolls?

"Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya, tomorrow, you're always a day away!" Hmm. Not much longer. Soon there'd be no more tomorrows. And at least Drusilla had produced one improvement in the children. As she passed by a crowd of them, they knelt and called out, "We love you, Dowager!" It didn't sound sincere, but she neither needed nor expected sincerity, only less sullenness.

The currents of fate were shifting as she approached the Well. "One more thing," Drusilla sang out as they neared it. She plopped down a doll on the edge, staring downward with blind eyes. "Observe the cat for us, Miss Edith."

The Dowager felt the Beyond click like the tumblers of a lock and settle into place. "There," Drusilla finished. "That is how you do it."

The Well of Udr now opened on one world and one world alone. If it was the wrong one, she need only choose another. If not....

"Just a spoonful of sugar...."

"Enough! Silence!"

Silence fell.

*****

Fred lighted on the podium and quickly morphed back into human form, now wearing her bridesmaid's dress. "If we're doing this before the fight, we've got to do it now," she warned. "The fleet's engaging with shore-based defenses now. They're hurling...acidic grenade babies or something like that." Her face twisted all up.

Alexander nodded. "Get everyone ready. Are Willow and Tara back?"

"Tara can't make it," Willow said plaintively, racing through the door as black glyphs transformed into golden around her and her body filled out into lifelikeness again. "She's taken over Raksi's kingdom and she's trying to get things whipped into shape. Without the whippage. I hope. Except maybe if someone's into that." She started changing clothes right there in front of him as if he weren't even around!

"That can be difficult," Fred acknowledged. "I'll go alert Buffy and Mnemon."

"I'll tell Anya," Alexander put in.

"Is Leviathan coming?"

Alexander shook his head. "He's a little disturbed by this whole alliance deal and wants to stay far far away. Who's Mnemon got for bridesmaids?"

"Cynis Megara and Peleps Aramida," Anya said, entering in only pants, carrying a shirt and jacket. "Any sign of Dawn?"

"Still missing," Fred said with a sigh. "She's going to regret this."

*****

The guests might have been hastily-assembled, but this spot had been kept decorated for nearly a week, flowers replaced as they wilted and ribbons as the birds tore them. Nestled between the spires and the dome, it was usually protected from bad weather, and the one storm this week had been predicted well in advance. Now it was full of people in folding chairs.

Anya stood at the center in her suit. The site was fancy, but the ceremony was going to be a little abbreviated. She made a quick gesture, and Willow cut in a computer-synthesized version of "Here Comes the Bride". Though of course in this case, it was more "here come the brides".

From the left, Buffy came in wearing her specially-tailored backless white dress, wings and serpent hair in full view. From the right, Mnemon strode up in her very-traditional scarlet wedding gown. Shadow stepped around Anya and the podium carrying a pillow that held Mnemon's disturbing red-and-black ring and a vitriolic-orichalcum ring she'd had made for Buffy.

Xander joined Buffy as she reached the center--half there as best man, half to give her away. Giles wasn't going to be pleased about missing this either. 

Time to start. The music stopped, and Anya intoned, "We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Mnemon, Princess of the Realm, and Buffy Summers, Despot of Gem. This is not to be construed as invalidating any other relationships they may be involved in. If anyone here has a reason these two should not be wed, let them speak now or forever hold their peace."

Silence.

"There being no--" Energy fire and clanking boots drowned her out as docking clamps latched onto the deck from all around.

"Crap!" Buffy yelled, kicking off her heels. "I am so going to slay whoever--"

An armored figure shot overhead, coming to an abrupt halt just above the Unconquerable Shadow. Suddenly the Essence surrounding them thickened, becoming harder to draw on. The faceplate went blank, revealing the visage of a stern, long-haired woman not radically-different-looking from Mnemon. Cousins, likely. "Tepet Ejava?" Mnemon growled.

"You need a reason not to wed the presumptive heir of the Empress to an Anathema? Then I'll provide you with one." She dropped down onto Shadow, who dodged just in time but dropped the pillow. The stranger picked it up and removed a gauntlet, studying the rings. "Vermillion blood washes away the past!"

Armored troops crashed into the wedding party, and Tepet Ejava slid both rings onto her fingers.


	32. Ash Nazg

"So you see the problem is simple," Ayesha Ura explained patiently. She really did feel a bit upset for the young man. "So long as Exaltations are available you will lack opportunities to be heroic. To obtain an Exaltation you need a higher destiny than that of a mere mortal."

"And since I sold mine..." Charles Gunn said reluctantly, "...no glowy powers for me."

"Sadly, I'm afraid that's the case," Ayesha said. "We could do an in-depth examination of your thread, but I'm quite certain what we'll find."

"Well...thanks for your time," the demon hunter said. "I just wondered." It really was a regrettable situation. Ayesha patted him on the shoulder gently as she rose.

"You should be getting back to Gem before we move the gate again," she warned him. "We have any number of crises--" She was proven right before she could finish; alarms rang out through the Bureau, a strange three-tone dissonant clamor Ayesha couldn't place.

"Warning. A portion of the Loom has been severed. Reconnecting now." Ayesha leapt to her feet and checked the monitoring glass. To her, the severed portion didn't look so much like a slice cut off by a Wyld incursion or a large shadowland as it did an entirely separate _Loom_. That was completely impossible, of course. There was only one Loom of Fate; how could there be more? "Loom segment is out of sync. Failsafes are being disengaged to permit reconnection. Warning. Safety locks are interfering with reconnection. Disengaging safety locks."

No sooner had that warning been spoken thsn Jupiter herself dashed into the room, half-clothed and no doubt more exposed than she had been in a thousand years. "No! Maintain the safety locks! Asna, override that response!"

Asna's chittering voice sounded over the speakers. "Ckannot ckomply. My most profound regkrets, Jupiter. That would produce ckatastrophic damage to the Loom."

What the hell was going on? What safety locks? "Nara-O," she prayed, "do you know what is the matter?"

Nara-O responded with a quick vision--a shrug from the eternally-robed god of secrets. At least two people knew what was happening, then, or Nara-O would know.

Jupiter sank down at a vacant desk with a moan. Ayesha considered going back to her own offices elsewhere in the Bureau, then decided against it. If there was a crisis here, she was best-equipped to handle it.

She walked over to Jupiter. "Maiden, how can I help?"

**Chapter 89-- _Ash Nazg_**

Tepet Ejava just hovered there for a moment. Then she began to laugh. At first it was a slow, dawning recognition of irony, such that Mnemon even hoped for a moment that she was going to apologize for a horrible mistake. But the laughter not only continued, it became a rich, full, laugh of very thorough evil as Ejava replaced her gauntlet.

Mnemon opened fire. A barrage of white crystalline force struck the Roseblack and passed through her as her form dissolved into shifting shadows that continued to laugh. "I thought...I really thought...that you wanted to put this thing on. You never would have done it, not if you knew what it was. Hell, neither would I!" For a moment the laughter approached hysteria before damping back down. Mnemon spun, searching for her enemy as their armies clashed around her. "It hid itself well, Auntie."

Vine whips lashed out at Mnemon, and her defense was sluggish, burning too much energy. The Roseblack's Wood Dragon armor ensured that. Her Anathema allies would be still worse off, their powers less efficient. She'd seen it a thousand times. "What is it?" She might be able to distract Ejava. "I found it in Mother's quarters."

"Ha! No doubt it was meant for you, then," the Roseblack snickered. "It's your mother. The Ebon Dragon fused her soul with one of his and bound them together for eternity. I can hear her screaming. It grants me all his power...and infinite release in the bargain."

Rage overtook Mnemon, and she sliced at the Roseblack's armor with the Weeping Sword of Sorrows, but it clanged harmlessly off. "I'll add your soul to theirs, Ejava! You think you can--"

Ejava hit her with a thorny green burst of energy, and Mnemon's vision went black. Another blow--from who knew what--sent her flying till she slammed into a wall. She could hear battle raging all around her, but with no idea who was friend or foe, she was...not helpless, but definitely in trouble.

"Release!" the Scholar said next to her ear, and the blackness dissipated, leaving Mnemon blinking. "Watch out for that, I've never seen it before." She sent bolts of black lightning arcing through Ejava's Red Piss troops, but the Roseblack's forces were well armored, and few of them took serious hurt.

The battle cry went up again--"Vermillion blood!"--and a lightning-shot arrow crackled toward the Scholar. She could defend herself, of course, but it'd burn her reserves. Mnemon seized her, spinning herself in between the Scholar and the arrow as her skin turned blue. The arrow ricocheted off and clattered to the deck.

"Thanks," the Scholar said, frowning quizzically. "You saved my butt."

"One good turn," Mnemon said. "Focus your fire on their leader. My soldiers will defend you from hers, and hers will be easier to break if she falls."

"I'll spread the word," the Scholar said. 

Good, good. Now where had Ejava gotten to?

*****

Buffy was not a killer.

She had burned those words into her heart with a hot iron. Buffy slayed demons; she did not kill people.

Trouble is...Buffy could heal. She did that without even thinking. Angel had been the first slender patch of healthy flesh to cover over the scab, and though she tore him away in the end, he just kept growing back.

She had, inevitably, made more friends on the other side of the war. She had, inevitably, seen others get pulled from her side and still treat her as a friend herself. Not all, of course. But some. The old brand had become little more than a dimpled scar. When she wanted to, Buffy spared demons.

And when she had to, Buffy had learned to kill humans.

Tepet Ejava didn't even prick the old wound. Buffy knew at once where her powers came from, and guessed in moments what had happened to the old Roseblack. She was hit by a burst of energy fire from Ejava's soldiers and sent flying, but she came up in time to see the Roseblack lash out at Mnemon. Buffy leapt into the air, wings outspread...

The world went black. Buffy blinked, and her vision cleared, shadow on shadow. Most of the people nearby were stumbling in the dark. Not the Roseblack, though. She still hovered in midair. Mnemon struggled beside her, caught in a tendril of shadow. As another tentacle gathered up Fred, though, Mnemon spoke one harsh syllable and the darkness evaporated, leaving the Roseblack looking baffled. She had power, but it was power she didn't fully understand. 

Still constrained by Ejava's armor, Buffy fell back on what she knew best: the simple techniques of Adorjani speed, which cost her little energy or none at all. She dropped onto the Roseblack like a striking hawk, pounding on her armor, searching for panels and releases.

They weren't there to be found. The Roseblack punched her in the face, and she toppled free, eyes leaking green flame and black shadow. But she could still see Willow strike out again with her black lightnings. Tepet Ejava laughed raggedly and lashed Willow with thorns. This wasn't like with Ragara Myrrun, who could still be hit if she could get a blow in. That armor made the Roseblack all but invulnerable.

Buffy caught a glimpse of Xander coming up behind the Roseblack, energy pistol drawn. He needed an opening. She leapt back into the air, nearly getting hit by a crossfire of elemental beams, and latched onto the Roseblack again. There _had_ to be a catch on that helmet. "I already know how to take you down, Ejava," she quipped. There it was! The helmet released. "'Cause you're the Juggernaut, bitch." She ripped the headgear off as Xander came up with the energy weapon and fired off a burst at the back of Ejava's head.

The blast struck the base of her neck. It didn't decapitate her. It didn't even muss her hair. The Roseblack threw her head back and laughed. Was there anything that could hurt her now?

*****

Not for the first time, Alexander wished he could fly. "Up, up, and away," he murmured to himself, but nothing happened. Faith could fly; why not him?

The black beam from the blaster that Ebon Siaka had called Coffin Nailer looked as if it had just been soaked up and absorbed by Tepet Ejava. Or the Roseblack, as Mnemon had called her a couple of times since the fight started. Instead, Alexander unlimbered Wavecleaver and began to slice methodically at Ejava's legs. He'd rather have gone for her head, but this was all he could reach. It didn't look very effective, and then she got annoyed and mule-kicked him into the Terrestrial melee.

He rolled over and was just getting to his feet when Megara grabbed him by the shoulder. "We have company," she warned. "Skullstone fleet's approaching at high speed. No sign of ours."

"Did we lose the whole fleet?" he wondered. "Or did they?" Luthe was in deep trouble either way; they had to take down the Roseblack before the ship was dome-deep in zombies.

Anya came flying past him, propelled by a burst of thorny vines. She had her arms up as if she were trying some kind of block, but it clearly wasn't working; she was covered in scratches. "Crap!" she grumbled. "Female principle my ass!"

"I've seen worse examples," Megara said, and raced off.

"Sidereal martial arts are hard," Anya complained bitterly. "Does anything hurt that woman?"

"She's all armored up _and_ has the powers of a titan," Alexander reminded her. "I'm leaning toward 'No.'"

"She isn't missing the things a lot of Infernals miss," Shadow said as she shoved her way into the crowd and grabbed hold of both of them. "We...um, they...pick and choose. Sometimes they overlook important stuff."

"The Ebon Dragon's supposed to be vulnerable to holy things," Anya said, "but I haven't had so much as a vial of holy water since I got here."

In the background Fred was slipping up on the Roseblack in a fog of shimmering light. She made it as far as launching her attack, but was sent crashing into a wall for her troubles, black ooze trickling from a gash in her forehead. This was extremely not good.

"Roseblack," Alexander thundered, thinking quickly, "I'm disappointed. I thought you were a good woman. Is this really what the Immaculate Faith teaches? Take off that ring. Don't make us save the world from you."

To his surprise, Ejava actually looked faintly troubled and removed her gauntlet. She made an effort to remove the ring, too, but it was stuck. "Drat," Shadow grumbled. "It's gone all glove-of-Mynhegon."

Alexander sighed, the voice of a thousand thunders. He had a shot. "This isn't you, Roseblack. I can show you some mercy, at least." A golden image of Buffy slashed the Scythe at Ejava's wrist.

The Roseblack's eyes went wide in alarm for an instant. Then her body dissipated into swirling leaves before the blade could sever her ring hand. She reassembled herself, then smiled coldly, not just at him but at all of them. "Do you save the world a lot, then?"

Memory kicked him in the guts. He'd walked away to get the doughnuts, Cordelia's comment ringing in his ears, hollowing him out with jealousy. It was eating him, keeping Jack O'Toole's "cake" to himself. But by keeping silent he could hold himself above the others. He didn't need their validation. He'd saved the world, and that was all that mattered. He didn't...need... His lips twisted into a sneer. What jerks.

That wasn't...that wasn't right. Buffy's eyes were far away as she murmured, "Angel...." Anya was staring in horror at nothing. Willow glared at him! What was she remembering? What....

"She's screwing with our heads!" he shouted. "I don't know what she's making you remember, but it's a lie!"

"Yes," Mnemon said through gritted teeth. "She deceives. I did not...I...."

"Such strong wills," the Roseblack sighed. "A pity they're not strong enough to dedeat me."

"Why not?" Buffy snapped. She started to lunge forward, and burning vines lashed across the battlefield in front of her.

"Well, the involvement of my troops, for one," Ejava chuckled. "But let's be serious for a moment." Buffy leapt onto the vines and charged at her. "You can't even scratch me." An explosion of tangled thorns leapt from the mess and tore into Buffy. "But I can and will cut you to ribbons."

"Buffy!" Fred shot out a tentacle and yanked the Slayer free of the cluster. "Are you--?"

"I'm good," she grumbled. "I didn't see anything happen to you."

"Never had a chance to save the world," Fred said evenly. "Didn't affect me."

"Buffy, Mnemon," Anya called. "I have a plan! Get your butts over here!"

Mnemon's eyebrows climbed into her hair, but she strode over, batting aside a volley of greenish-blue arrows with her sword. "We're in dire need of one. What do you suggest?"

"Buffy needs buffing," Anya said, and grinned. "It won't hurt if the rest of us get some help in the process, but we need to build up our tank so she deals enough damage to hurt the enemy. First step: Mnemon, do you take this woman to be your lawfully-wedded consort?"

"What? Are you seriously--?" Alexander rolled his eyes and took a moment to fire off a series of bursts from Coffin Nailer at the Roseblack.

"Yes! Roll with it!"

"All right, yes," Mnemon said irritably. "I do."

"Buffy! Do you take Mnemon to be your lawfully-wedded consort?" Shadow joined in with the cover fire, shooting flaming crossbow bolts.

"Isn't the day kind of ruined for this?" Buffy asked. If anything, she was crankier than Mnemon.

"What kind of day would be more appropriate?" Anya asked. "You're two warriors locked in combat even on your special day, because this is your destiny."

Buffy made a frumpy pouting "Humph," then said, "Okay, I do. Yes."

"Then by the power vested in me by the Maidens," Anya intoned, "I pronounce the two of you married." She ducked under Ejava's sword. "Kiss already," she said, and drove a fist covered in red and yellow streamers of energy into the Roseblack's armored midsection. Fire surged up from Tepet Ejava as her essence burned, and against that background Alexander saw Buffy lock lips with Mnemon. "Awesome-sauce," Anya said. "Ceremony complete and heaven's blessing on your new life together should kick in. Start it by kicking this woman's hinie!" She leapt up as Ejava tried to sweep her feet from beneath her. "Who's next?"

Mnemon laid hands on Buffy to enhance her combat skills further while Shadow had to yank Fred out of the line of fire; the clashing armies had shifted and were shredding the pavilion.

"There you are!" an unfamiliar Terrestrial called out. Alexander was about to shoot him when he suddenly shimmered and became Manosque Cyan. "They came up the aisle between us. Cearr, Sulumor, this way!" He still considered shooting her; of all Buffy's Infernal friends, she seemed the least trustworthy.

Anya was finishing some sort of pep talk with Mnemon while the two of them batted aside energy bursts. "You three! Over here! We're trying to crank Buffy up to fight the Roseblack. You got anything?"

Cyan raised an eyebrow, Cearr muttered something coarse, and Sulumor...snickered, which didn't seem like her. "Of course," Sulumor said. "Make a wish."

Anya bristled immediately, of course. "You're crazy."

"I'm on your side. I can set a price for whatever you wish for, but really...what price is too high to stop this?"

"Anh," Alexander said, "she doesn't know, and I think she's got limits you didn't. Sulumor, trust me, she has reasons."

The albino priestess nodded. "Watch, then, Anya, and learn."

"Do you serve the Yozis?" Shadow asked, and cocked her head slightly.

"Not as they are," Sulumor said with a frown. "I did. I owe Cecelyne a debt, but freedom in her broken state is no fit payment. I must find another way."

The Roseblack was caught in a hand-to-hand fight with Son of Crows. They had a moment, at least. "Ok," Alexander said. "Show us what you've got."

*****

Quiet at last.

The Dowager studied the blue-white portal that had formed atop the Well. Beyond was unreachable, now, but here was a specific universe at her fingertips. "You have done well, Drusilla. Your reward is at hand. One last question: how do I realign the portal to another universe?"

"Hmm," Drusilla mused, tapping her lips. "You'll need the numbers."

It was always best to be patient with the madwoman. A vibration thrummed through the floor, and the Dowager asked, "Ah. Well, how shall I obtain them?"

"Umm. You would need to travel there to feel them out." More tapping. The Shoat peered curiously at her.

"And how do I reach one?" She wondered if Drusilla were being deliberately obtuse. But she seemed to lack the capacity for that.

"I suppose you'd have to go through the Well," Drusilla sighed.

All right. This had gone far enough. The Dowager felt her fist strike the table, its reverberation joining a new rippling thrum. "How do I restore the Well to its previous state?"

"I don't know," Drusilla said. "How would I go about it, I wonder? Numbers for the Beyond, beyond numbers? Perhaps one would have to go there and taste them."

Insolence. Drusilla croaked as the Dowager seized her by the neck. "What have you done?"

"Stopped it," the Sidereal mouthed silently. "Closed...the maw...."

The Dowager gritted her teeth. She'd been played. By this slip of a girl who didn't even look twenty. She was an Exalt, certainly, but...That vibration came again. "What is that?" She dropped Drusilla to the floor in a heap.

"Resonance," Drusilla wheezed. "It builds...builds up and...."

No! But the manse could be repaired. She was certain of it. With the Neverborn's help, and her nigh-infinite expertise.... "Why? What would make it stable?"

Drusilla rasped out giggles. "A child...singing."

The vibration became a rumble. The Dowager wheeled on the Shoat of the Mire. "Sing!" The Shoat ran a pair of fingers across her lips and shook her head. "Sing, you brat!"

"Uh-uh."

The vibration had become continuous. Without the Shoat stabilizing them, the manse's mystical forces were building toward a catastrophic release. The Dowager tried singing a few bars herself, but to no effect. With a snarl she turned and raced for the children's quarters. She could not die, and she might yet save the Well with them.

Drusilla tangled herself around the Dowager's legs. "Shoat!" she cried. "Bring your friends here! Scurry fast!"

The Sidereal meant them to escape through the portal. She was willing to risk them passing by the Dowager herself.

Therefore time must be very short.

*****

Cearr had to admit it: the Roseblack was all he'd heard about and more. She was disciplined, tough, and very, very powerful--and only some of that was the huge dose of Yozi power she was running on. He stabbed at her with a spear of green fire, but her daiklaive countered his every blow. Shuriken arced down from Cyan's position, but they passed through Tepet Ejava's form or were stopped by her armor.

Then he heard a sound Buffy had mentioned to him, but not explained. She was like that, blabbing about her strange other world. He'd like to see it one day. Oh, right--the sound.

_Snikt._

By the time Buffy mentioned the girl who'd survived five years in an alien forest, Cearr had almost sort of expected a tiny thing like her. Instead, Fred was worse, a skinny beanpole with all the apparent muscle of a songbird. All right, she wasn't a warrior caste, but he'd never known a time when an Exalt could get by without fighting.

Exxept right now she was coated from neck to toe in bone-white and grey armor, silver claws jutting from the backs of her hands and feet, anima light fluttering around her in a broken rainbow.

The Roseblack couldn't track her. Didn't stop her from fighting back. Tangled vine-webs coated the deck and lashed out. Fred leapt into the air, somersaulted, and came down with hand-claws arcing for the Roseblack's throat. They passed through harmlessly as Ejava went shadowy, but Fred didn't finish coming down. Her foot claws were lodged in the knee joints of Ejava's armor. She opened her mouth and spat out a clotted tangle of spiderweb into the Roseblack's face. "Eat your heart out, Spidey," the girl said with a laugh as Ejava tried to rip the mass off her eyes and nose. Spidey?

The Roseblack was still struggling with the web, and Fred still slashing at her throat--more or less ineffectively--when the Dread Pirate Roberts came up behind and began slicing and dicing with that fancy cutlass daiklaive of his. It did about the same damage--namely none--but Ejava was lighting up with a greenish-black glow as she burned through her essence. Of course! She might be using all these fancy Yozi powers, but at the base of it she was just a jumped-up Dragon-Blood. If they could burn her out--

Buffy came charging out of a scrum of Terrestrials tossing more attacks at her than he could shake a stick at. A burst of flame hit her, and she lit up with her own green fire, turning to solid teakwood as she did. Then she charged past him, slamming into Ejava and knocking Fred loose. The Roseblack lashed out with her thornburst, but Buffy flared up again, showing her inner demon, and her body sprouted up to about seven feet, losing her thorn-fingers in the process. She was sponging off their energy attacks, and swapping out transformations in the process! Now that was a trick he was gonna have to learn!

The Scholar--Cearr hated those damn title-names Abyssals all used--came up firing lightning bolts at the Roseblack from her eyes, because of course she didn't have to worry about hurting her friend. Why she growled "Crucio," he had no idea, but Ejava howled when the bolts struck her.

And then she got an assessing look in her eyes. Cearr did _not_ like that look. Her face melted over with shadow and suddenly it was Buffy standing there in the damn armor. Not an illusion, she'd Black-Mirrored her.

This was about to turn into a real clusterfuck.

*****

Karal Linwei ran.

She was the leader, and she was the last of them. That...thing had carved through her army like a machete, systematically burning every detachment she sent against it to ash. Even the artillery squads. With every soldier it slew, it only grew stronger. Not even Fire aspects could stand against it now. It transmuted the very virtue in your heart into living flame.

All that she could do had been done, save one thing: she had to survive and bring warning. Otherwise the monstrosity would char its way through Lookshy, reducing the entire nation to a field of ash and shrieking ghosts.

Power lent wings to her feet, and she dashed on. It moved slowly but inexorably. It could never catch her...until she stopped.

She could not be sure how far she had gone, how fast she had run, but she knew that one of the Dragon-Blooded ought not to be as winded as she was after any slight exertion. Now she was stumbling up a hill, only staying on her feet by burning her essence. When she ran out, she would...

She fell.

A hand caught her by the arm. A voice said, "Mother." Not one of her sons. Her daughter. The Anathema. Karal Fire Orchid pulled her gently to her feet. "If you've come so far to kill me, I think it's safe to say you'll fail."

"Troops," Linwei gasped. "We have to bring in specialist troops. With...with resistance to reality shaping. The Judge...is free. And near full power."

"I'll take you home, Mother. If they execute me, they'll know I died loyal."

"No, my daughter. In this crisis Lookshy needs your strength. I'll speak to the General Staff. They'll...cut you a special deal. I'll make certain of it."

"With an Anathema? Don't be a fool, mother." Fire Orchid shook her head at the absurdity of it.

"In times of greatest need, these things have been done," Linwei insisted. "The undead defended him from artillery fire. From all else he seems immune. He destroyed my field force with ease. You must--" She fell to gasping and coughing, exhaustion overtaking her at last.

"If I must," Fire Orchid said, "then I shall."

*****

Tepet Ejava wasn't tiny and blonde any more, but she was still Buffy. Now she was twenty feet high, a wicker construct full of green flame. Some of her own forces had turned on her, but their weapons fire fueled her and left her unscathed.

The real Buffy was the same, locked in a wrestling hold with her. The Roseblack seemed uncertain about being shoved into the water in this state, so Buffy was exploiting her unwarranted fear. That wouldn't last long, though.

"Cover me," Mnemon told Anya. "I'm going to try a spell." The other woman nodded and assumed some sort of blocking stance. Good enough.

Mnemon chanted the Invocation of the Titan, massively amplifying her strength, and when she was finished, slammed herself into the lower leg of the Buffy without wings--to her pleased surprise, the hearthstone mutations hadn't carried over. Tepet Ejava stumbled, and in that moment Buffy shoved her off the deck into the water. The Roseblack flailed in momentary panic, and Mnemon conjured a crystal sword in her off hand. The blade, holy to the Dragons, pierced through Ejava's leg. Sap oozed copiously from the wound. Finally, some genuine harm done.

Just then a Brilliant Raptor slammed into Anya's guard. Even Mnemon started a little at that. No one could--

But the Raptor vanished into a swirl of black ribbons that emerged from Anya's aura, and Anya gave a little whoop. "First time, yeah!"

Mnemon could spare her only a little attention. Vast amounts of steam boiled from the water around her, just as searing as the actual flames in the Roseblack's aura, as the Roseblack slowly realized she was in no additional danger and quit thrashing. Mnemon drove the blade in again, slicing up through Ejava's leg as Mnemon ran forward through the flames.

Halfway up the Roseblack's torso, Mnemon came to a halt. The flames were trivial. No, the problem was the soulsteel ships that were surrounding Luthe as they drew the circle tight. While they fought like fools, the Silver Prince had come upon them unawares.

Dead black hatches opened and disgorged zombies, specters, and all manner of undead war machines. The deathknight who had been Moray Darktide stood upon one approaching deck, Swims-In-Shadow on another, and between them an arc of Abyssals raising all manner of weapons.

Moray signaled to Tepet Ejava, a gesture of solidarity in hate, and the wicker Terrestrial returned the signal with one gnarled, immense hand.

If there was any way matters could get worse, Mnemon couldn't think of it.

*****

Deep in the utmost East, the Mound of Forsaken Seeds trembled, shaking with unearthly violence. Once, twice, three times the ground rang dully like a broken bell, and the third time the buried ziggurat exploded, hurling great chunks of dirt, wood, and stone in every direction. 

*****

In the Scavenger Lands, a great shroud of grey mist and blood rain stretched out across a battlefield now strewn only with ash, and at the leading edge marched the Judge, trailed by a vast bodyguard of undead warriors and siege weapons.

*****

On the banks of the Potomac rested a strange enclosed craft of silvery metal, half buried in the trench formed by its barely-controlled landing. President Lilah Morgan stood back reluctantly, awaiting the signal of her bodyguard that it was safe to approach.

The hatch opened to screams, and skeletal machines of death strode out, firing.

*****

Beneath the burning sands of Gem, beneath the slopes of dead or dormant volcanoes, twisted lava tubes echoed with the raucous laughter of twisted creatures made from coal. The city lay all but undefended. By the time its true queen returned, only rubble would remain.

*****

In the depths of the nether realms, a woman screamed for release in a cube of solid ice, and finally, after untold eons, a voice answered her. "Are you ready to accept my gift, and live?"

In the tiny space of the ice melt created by her body heat, Catherine Madison nodded to the demon.

*****

All this spread across the screen of the bunker beneath the Blessed Isle, even realms undreamed of till this day. With the heart of Typhon clutched in one hand and the hearthstone of the Imperial Manse in the other, Tepet Fokuf threw back his head and howled with laughter.

The time had come at last.


	33. Apocalypseses Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be taking a break to work on something else for NaNoWriMo. Also, the next chapter will open the final book in this series, of the same title: Apocalypseses Now.

For the Mound of Forsaken Seeds, this is the end.

The orphans live--if it can be called that--in the deepest depths of the ziggurat, surrounded by the shambling corpses of their parents as nannies and the soulforged ghosts of their parents as utensils and bedframes and tools and toys. Even if there were time before the blast hit, they would have to make their way out through a labyrinth of corridors patrolled by undead abominations.

There is no time. Even the Shoat of the Mire has elected to remain with them, surrounded by the whimpering remnants of their parents' souls as their parents' zombies close in for one final embrace. She is no different from them, in the end.

*****

The Dowager is waiting at the portal. She could simply leap through, but she is convinced now of a trap beyond, and so she is awaiting the final moments. Perhaps Drusilla can yet avert the destruction or tell her how to spring the trap.

She is coming. The Dowager can hear her blasphemous singing, something about the wheel of reincarnation and the cleansing sun. If the Dowager were capable the song would make her retch. The tread of children follows her. How she has gotten so many past the guards in so little time is a mystery, but she is an Exalt. She no doubt has ways.

The Dowager does not fear death, but she does fear the Neverborn's judgement. This is a horrific failure, and she would prefer not to face them just now. She draws Root of Scorn to pin the Sidereal to the ground, and Drusilla comes around the corner, surrounded by children. Undead children.

The Dowager knows she has been fooled for the first time in an Age. She prepares to fire, and the zombies pack themselves around Drusilla. No matter. She is their true master. She makes the tiniest gesture and they disperse.

Drusilla is still belting out her song, one hand inside her blouse. "...moves us all...through despair and hope...." She has a pair of lungs on her. She has a p--!

Impact.

**Chapter 90--Apocalypseses Now**

The Chirmirajen is made for this, made to penetrate between worlds, and yet curiously it has never passed through a natural portal like this. Spike risks a quick glance out the window and sees a sky smeared with dirt and ash. He pops the hatch.

The Sun's mono has come to rest in the wreckage of some ancient mausoleum, it seems. Stone lies shattered in every direction, and at the center there is a core of horrific torn flesh fit to make a vampire laugh with glee. Spike does not laugh. This flesh has been dead a long time, yet in places it continues to twitch.

Severed limbs begin to fall from the heap of carrion, followed by metal. Plates, blocks, a bedframe, all made of some matte-black alloy that reflects almost nothing. Then another layer of dead flesh...followed by children. Live children, pale and thin, staring around with eyes like a weary soldier's, but breathing, living. He can smell it on them.

What the hell just happened here? Spike frowns at the Chirmirajen's nose, which is coated in some sort of slime. He runs a finger through it, sniffs. No scent. "Ectoplasm? Angel, get your butt out here!"

Angel shines through the hatch. "I can't stay long or my version of the Daystar's liable to figure I'm dead. We don't want that."

"Then hurry up an' help me collect these children. This's no place for 'em." One of them, the healthiest-looking, walks up and spits on the smear of goo.

"Drusilla said you'd be here," she informs them. "I don't understand the message she left. '"The curse is come upon me," cried the lady of Shallot.' That's what she said."

Spike stands there a moment. "'But Lancelot mused a little space,'" he says finally. "'He said, "She has a lovely face."'"

"'"God in his mercy lend her grace,"'" Angel finishes, "'"The lady of Shallot."'"

*****

Tara sat for the third time in audience with her people. "I am not Raksi," she says again. "I won't tolerate violence. If you are attacked, defend yourself, but call for a patrol."

"The ape-men are the problem," explained an elderly monkey-woman. "They're strong and fast, and Raksi trained them to take what they want by force. Very few of them are suitable police."

"All right," Tara said reluctantly. "Put forward any names that you think are honest people, and I'll dismiss the rest."

Some disgruntled suggestions followed. Tara wasn't sure what she was doing wrong. The people were happy about opening up the schools and about getting rid of intermarriage restrictions--well, mostly. Some people were afraid of the Wyld mutants even after several hundred years of Raksi's encouragement. But just eliminating the police, with no other system in place, sounded like it'd bring an explosion of violence.

The meeting broke up with an overall air of frustration, and the elderly monkey-woman approached Tara immediately. "If you wish, you can bend the unit commanders to your will," she said simply. "Raksi shared her favors with them often. You can make them do whatever you ask if you--"

"I am not Raksi," Tara reiterated. The idea of controlling anyone the way Raksi did--the way Raksi had partly controlled _her_!--was repulsive. But then how _did_ she control people who refused to behave on their own?

The frustrated monkey-woman scurried off nervously and was replaced by a tiny baboon-child. "Where's your friend?" the kid called unselfconsciously. She--or he; it was hard to tell--seemed refreshingly unafraid and was probably about to be carried off by a frightened parent.

"She had to go," Tara explained. "She has a battle to fight a long way from here. I needed to stay and keep you safe, so I couldn't go help."

"We'd be safe if you took the soldiers," the kid said. "Everyone else around us is afraid of Raksi still."

Tara smiled wanly and crouched in front of him. The poor kid would've been one of Raksi's favored, but still knew Raksi was horrible...after a fashion. "I can't, kiddo. It's so far away from here I can't make it in time, even by myself."

"Not even with one of Raksi's flying things?"

Tara met the curious frown with one of her own. "Raksi had a troop transport? A...a flier that can carry lots of people?" Raksi had reinvented a lot of things for her amusement, but the most dangerous had been kept in her private pocket dimension.

The child nodded and pointed upwards. "Follow me." It leapt into the trees and began climbing and swinging upward, awkwardly compared to a monkey but still with more than human grace.

Tara focused, transforming her feet and joints, before following, leaping from branch to branch. She'd always wondered what it felt like to be Buffy, and this had to be something close. Energy sang in her muscles and bones as she caught vines with her feet and swung off them, working her way ever upward. Too bad all that long hair flailed around in her face; she shortened it to a cute bob. "What's your name?" she called.

"Edie," the child shouted back. "I'm Edie."

*****

"Giles," Buffy said urgently, shaking him. "Get up. I need you."

Giles' eyes cracked open blearily. "Buffy, might I ask what need you might have of me...." Wesley, Cordelia, and Gunn were all standing over his bed as well. "...of us, I should say, at this hour?"

"Giles, the Lookshy frontier is in flames. It's the Judge. He's at full power, or close to it. He's working for the Mask of Winters, that's how I know."

"The Judge?" Suddenly awake, Giles forced himself upright. "Dear Lord. But Buffy--"

"The me there already has her Slayer trying to get to the front with Anja Silverclaws and the Sage of the Depths, but the only me with powers is on the other side of the world fighting the Silver Prince's undead minions and the Roseblack. And, um, getting married. I know you're not a match for him, but...the four of you together have a little power. And tactics, and...and I'm stuck here running a country!"

"Let me see if I understand correctly." Giles pulled on his glasses. "You want me to face the Judge, at full power. Are you casting aspersions on my character?"

"You don't have to go," Buffy said quietly. "I know it's a long shot. Right now everything's a long shot. I'm just asking if you see any way you could help."

"We've already agreed to go," Gunn said unhelpfully. "I don't know what we'll amount to--the region's already swarming with Dragon-Blooded--but the General Staff just proclaimed amnesty for any Anathema who turn up to help. It's that bad."

Lookshy did that more often than the Realm due to its more precarious position, but Giles didn't say that. He took a moment to clean his glasses. "All right," he said. "I will find some way to help."

Buffy left, and Cordelia rounded on him at once. "You know she's sending us to die, right?"

"Many good people are dying there already," Wesley reminded her. "The Judge--"

"Which is why we need to leave it to them," Cordelia snapped, on the verge of hyperventilating. "Can't we just find a First Age rocket launcher and--?"

"Been done already," Gunn said. "Undead war machine took the rocket for him. Then he incinerated the shooter, the spotter, and the ammo squad before they could fire again. It ain't gonna be that easy this time."

"Rupert," Wesley said quietly, "not three years ago it was all the talk that Ripper had gone soft for his Slayer, that you thought of her like a daughter. You won't last five seconds against the Judge. It would take an utter sociopath with no self-control beyond that needed for self-preservation to fight him and live."

"I know," Giles said, rubbing his arm. "I have a plan."

*****

In five minutes they'd gone from fighting valiantly but ineffectively against the Roseblack to pinned down by an army...er, navy...of undead. Spine chains crawled the deck and the boots of zombies stamped about. Troopers in some sort of bone power armor had the Scoobies, the Infernals, and an unconscious Mnemon with arms twisted behind their backs. Behind Tepet Ejava and a glowering Moray Darktide--or whatever he was called now--stood a squad of wet-behind-the-ears Deathknights, swaggering with their new power. Down below, Swims-In-Shadow was in command of undead monsters that swam the sea.

In short, the Dread Pirate Roberts had them right where he wanted them.

"Towers of Azure," he said, poking Fred with his elbow, "activate self-destruct."

The AI said nothing for a long moment, but Fred jumped in. "Confirmed. Thirty second countdown, Towers of Azure. Activate self-destruct."

"Yes, Queen Winifred, Admiral Amyana. Twenty-eight seconds. Twenty-seven."

The Roseblack sighed. "You think this transparent bluff will fool me? This city has no self-destruct, and if it did you wouldn't activate it with civilians on board."

"Twenty-four."

Alexander shook his head. "You've got undead all over the deck. There won't be civilians here very long. I know how the evil dead work."

"Xander," Anya said urgently, "I have another good three and a half thousand years or so. I'm not ready to die just yet!"

"None of us are," Shadow said. "But if the alternative is letting the world end?"

"Then that means we need better alternatives than dying because the world ended and dying because it didn't!" Anya didn't seem really on board with this--nor did fidgety Willow, but there hadn't been time to explain this contingency plan to them.

"Sixteen," Towers said. "Fifteen."

"Look, Tepid Java," Buffy growled, "listening to evil monologues isn't exactly my cup of tea. Can we just skip to the end already, where you try and fail to drop me into the shark tank?"

The Roseblack yawned. "If you like, I suppose I could manage not to monologue at you. I always did think that was absurd."

"Ten, nine...."

Willow began elbowing Mnemon. "Wake up already. We're about to die here!" Mnemon stirred, her head lolling, and Alexander winced. There were things Mnemon didn't know either. 

Buffy lunged forward, seemingly unable to break free. "Get out of my face, you bitch!" Ejava yawned again.

"Three...two...."

"Hey, is there an actual plan here?" Cearr put in abruptly. "Or is--?"

"Zero," Towers said, and the deck lurched drunkenly to port and down. Water surged up over the railings as Luthe sank rapidly beneath the waves. Zombies stumbled about and power-armored soldiers lurched and clutched at rails, letting their captives free.

The Roseblack was right: there was no self-destruct. As far as any of the troops on board knew, though, one had just been activated. Luthe lurched wildly in the water as if its engines were, at best, breaking down. Alexander started to shout an order, but at that moment Ejava caught his eye. "You fools," she yelled, "it's a trick! We need to--" She broke off, her eyes widening. "--to...restore that man's honor!" The Roseblack speared her finger at Cearr.

Cearr bared his teeth in a horrific grin. "I can go with that."

Ejava squeezed her eyes shut, but when she opened them they immediately went wide again. "Bring aid to the Dune Alliance!" she cried, drawing baffled stares from her own soldiers. "No, that...why are we here? We should be...we should be back on the Blessed Isle tearing apart the Scarlet Dynasty. No, I...what are we doing...what's happening to me?"

Buffy caught Alexander's eye. When Ejava mimicked her, the Roseblack had made herself Buffy's evil...well, "mirror" twin. She'd forgotten, or hadn't known, that Buffy could do that part too. Now Buffy was flicking from reflecting one person to another in rapid succession--and dragging the Roseblack along with her in the process.

"I see what you're doing," Cyan said, tapping Buffy on the shoulder. Buffy gritted her teeth, still cycling the Roseblack through random personalities. "She'll drop the imitation soon. I have an idea. Mirror me again." The zombies surged forward as the Abyssals lost interest in waiting on the Roseblack, but her confused soldiers blocked their advance. Cyan fixed Ejava in her gaze, and....

All three women clutched their heads and screamed. Buffy sagged to her knees; the other two collapsed, the Roseblack reverting to her normal face as she did. "What just happened?" Alexander asked.

"We double-negatived her," Buffy said heavily. "She can't be me and my opposite at the same time. Cyan, you ok? Someone get that ring off her, then stand back in case it goes all Mynhegon-kablooey."

"That's my job," Cearr said. He picked up the unconscious woman and put her ring finger between his teeth. There was an audible _pop_. "Problem solved." The Roseblack didn't explode, so Xander pointed to a relatively sheltered alcove amidst the troops, and Cearr plopped her down roughly there.

"Frodo of the Nine Fingers," Fred whispered in Alexander's ear, and he nodded.

"Don't let Cearr hear you, though. I don't want to have to recite Lord of the Rings during a battle." There was still a battle going on, though the Vermillion Legion seemed to have reluctantly fallen in with the other Terrestrials against the zombies without the Roseblack telling them otherwise.

"Abyssals to fight," Anya said agreeably. "No offense, Scholar and Shadow."

"None taken," Willow said, showing her teeth and loosing lightning on the nearest spine chain.

Buffy stood up, helping Cyan stagger to her feet. "The Silver Prince wants Luthe. Let's make him pay by the inch."

Cyan's grin resembled Willow's, aside from her unwithered lips. "I'm game."

*****

Tara grinned and slapped the shoulders of armored apemen and apewomen, who bared teeth in what might have been grins, might have been ferocious snarls...might have been both. When the raggedy transport was full, she made her way to the front, telling herself that Raksi had done good work, that the vessel was tougher than it looked.

"You've been wanting a fight? We've got a fight coming! The Silver Prince wants to end the world. Well, I _like_ the world! Don't you?"

"Hooo-ahh!" It was something between a Marine cheer and an ape hoot-grunt.

"You're going to do b-better than Raksi ever dreamed! You will tear the enemy limb from limb! You will...you will taste manflesh!" She hadn't meant to use that one. Well, it'd be rotten manflesh. Did it really matter if they ate zombies?

"Hoo! Hoo! Hoo!"

"And if even after I took Raksi down you still think I'm weak? You're about to see what I can do in a fight." Hopefully not make a fool of herself. But she'd held her own in battles before being Exalted. She could do better now. "We are going to...to smash that overgrown ghost into the ground. Got it?"

"Hoo-ahh!"

"Good!" She made her way to the controls. They weren't like the ones on the small flier Raksi had brought her in, but they weren't radically different either. Working on instinctive feel, she set her hands on the yoke and pressed the ignition button with her thumb. The transport bucked, shuddered...and lifted off in a gout of dust. She could do this!

"Hey!" Tara groaned and glanced behind her. She had a stowaway. She had _two_ stowaways. "Who said you could lift off with my immortal majesty aboard?"

"You didn't announce your presence, Glory. Or that you had a child with you. I'm turning around. Edie, you need to go home to your parents. A war's no place for kids."

"But I want to go!" Glory whined. "I haven't been to a war in ages."

Tara shivered. This...being had reached into her mind and ripped out her sanity. She ought to be terrified. Instead she felt only a little anxiety...and a great deal of anger.

Glory's eyes went wide. Tara glanced down and found that her hand was gripping the raksha's throat. "You want to go to war? Okay. Come fight a war. Keep this little girl out of trouble. Do both, and maybe I'll forgive you."

What was happening to her? 

*****

Why was she on the ground with a knee in her back when she had superpowers?

In principle, Lilah Morgan knew the answer. It was to her advantage that no one think her anything unusual, besides President. And most of her powers were subtle things that might not be much use fighting the Terminator and Borg knockoffs that had emerged from the transport.

Still, she burned with humiliation, and in any case the Secret Service was a flimsy shield against cybernetic monsters. Drusilla would have been useful--she could have acted without producing any lasting impression on the media--but she had vanished several days ago, and that was ignoring her increasing absences to work on large-scale destiny planning.

A sharp report, and the pressure vanished from her back. Not good. She rolled over. Williams was still alive, but he had a nasty hole burned through his guts. "This's going to hurt like hell," she warned, "but you might just live. Hold still till I say." She'd only ever used this for blackmail, but it was good for so much more in principle. Lilah held out her hand and beckoned Williams to rise. He screamed in agony, but it was the transformation and not the wound, and by the time he stood up he had horns and paralyzing snot; she doubted these things were packing silver bullets, so he should be fine.

Lilah took Williams' gun. He wasn't going to need it as a Fyarl. She, on the other hand, opened fire.

*****

"So," Willow continued, "Galadriel refused the Ring rather than be corrupted by it even though--"

"Even though her people were all going to die," Sulumor cut in, flinging an eruption of sand into the crowd of zombies. "Or 'go into the West'. I understand euphemism as well as anyone. What exactly does Tolkien mean by corruption, if not that?"

Willow's eyes pulsed with lightning. "They might have survived as her slaves," she pointed out, "or died anyway. Some things are worth dying for."

"Says the Abyssal," Mnemon grunted. "Who herself chose life over death even though it meant serving the Neverborn." Her own stream of flying rock joined the barrage. "This story is terrible."

"I don't think you're quite understanding the point of this tale," Anya said, prompting a smile from Willow. "Tolkien was attempting to create a mythic cycle by the process he thought real Germanic mythology had been invented. Of course it was all nonsense. We really believed that stuff." Willow groaned. An arrow from her powerbow skewered the raygun one of the Abyssals was aiming at Xander. The Daybreak raged and shouted something about the Maw of the Abyss of Oblivion's...something or or other.

"So all that stuff with the singing dancing guy--" Cearr began, burning a spine chain into radioactive ash.

"That's Oramus," Buffy said quickly, "who apparently breaks the fourth wall along with everything else. We've met." She seemed to be having a fine time slashing at Moray Darktide with the Scythe now that she'd retrieved it. For his part, the freshly-Abyssaled pirate growled every time anyone made a quip. The Neverborn didn't seem to appreciate humor.

"Not that I mind," Alexander pointed out. "He has some great lines. 'Get out, you old wight!/Vanish in the sunlight!/Shrivel like the cold mist/like the winds go wailing!'" Scorching beams of light shone through the clouds, setting afire some crawling dead things that had emerged from the sea.

Cyan yawned. "After the Roseblack, this is far too easy." All the Scoobies gasped. "What? You certainly don't seem to be having any difficulties. No offense to you either, Roseblack." Tepet Ejava shrugged; with the ring gone she seemed to have recovered and was wielding Thorn expertly against the undead without much commentary.

"You don't talk about how easy it is!" Willow grumped at her. "You might as well make a wish! And that wish is for things to get way worse!"

"I say she has the right of it," put in Meticulous Owl. "Never tempt fate like that. The Pattern Spiders hear and presume you can handle something more exciting to watch." He flung black lightning of his own about casually, though, as if he were as bored as the rest of them.

"Superstitious nonsense," Mnemon muttered. "Let's get back to the story. I presume the Fellowship moves on from Lothlorien eventually, correct?"

Willow opened her mouth to explain, then stopped, jaw slack. "Guys? Um..." She stopped again, so Xander turned to look where she was pointing. A ship, a single dreadnaught that loomed over everything they had but Luthe itself, had appeared seemingly from nowhere. Its hull was an absolute dead black, it bristled with cannon, and atop the deck stood a figure robed in soulsteel shards, brandishing an immense sword.

"I will brook no more meddling," the great figure roared. "These islands are mine, and none short of the Neverborn shall take them from me. Face me if you dare!"

Alexander facepalmed. "Too late."


End file.
